Steady As We Go
by kwater
Summary: When danger once more threatens the Powers family, Sam and Dean go on the hunt to protect the ones they love. Alright all, I have been assured and reassured by Fredo that it is past time for another addition to Sara's story. So, here we go, since
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Chapter Notes:**

A little side note, the title of this one comes from a Dave Matthews Band song of the same title, you can find it on the Stand Up album...this song just always melts my heart and I have no doubt that its made Sara's playlist as well.

A big thanks goes out to Fredo for her beta work, and to Dagmar for consistantly nagging me for the past so many months. Enjoy ladies - Kel ;)

**Chapter 1**

**_'Have yourself a merry little Christmas_**

**_Let your heart be bright_**

**_From now on our troubles will be out of sight_**

**_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_**

**_Make the yuletide gay_**

**_From now on our troubles will be miles away_**

**_Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore_**

**_Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us, once more_**

**_Through the years we all will be together_**

**_If the fates allow_**

**_Hang a shining star upon the highest bough_**

**_And have yourself a merry little Christmas now'_**

December 5, 1978

Stephen Morris reached up and brushed away the tear that slipped down his cheek. Though he hated himself for his lack of control, he really couldn't help it. Every time he heard Rosemary Clooney's heartfelt version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, the waterworks started.

Unsure if it was Clooney's delivery or the fact the song represented family and appreciating what you had in the moment, he only knew it killed him every time. What made matters worse was with less than three weeks until Christmas, he was bombarded with the damn song every time he turned on the radio.

With a sigh, Stephen took his eyes off the black stretch of macadam before him and glanced toward the empty passenger seat of his Plymouth Horizon. If he was honest he'd admit the reason the song, and hell this holiday in general, left him feeling hollow was because he was facing it all alone. Christmas was only ever merry to those that had someone to share it with. Otherwise, it was a nightmare of loneliness made even worse by other people's shining happiness.

It didn't help that it had been four years, four years of mind-numbing loneliness, nearly to the day since he'd lost his sweet Caroline.

"No more pity," he chided himself as he reached out and pressed the cassette that sat in his radio back into the player. As Bob Seger began to sing about making it with a girl in the backseat of his Chevy, Stephen forced himself to focus on the music. He was done wallowing in pity. That was why he now found himself in the car, with his every belonging stuffed into the back, heading north.

Caroline was gone, it was something that had taken him a long time to admit. That being said, now that he had, he refused to fall back on the memories that he'd once held close. Maybe someday, when he'd replaced the aching sadness with something else, he'd be able to look back on Caro's short and all too tragic life and rejoice for the time they'd had together. Today wouldn't be that day. Today he needed to turn his back on the love of his life and face his uncertain future. She would have expected no less from him.

As Night Moves morphed into The Fire Down Below, Stephen felt the tension in his chest ease slightly. The thought that he was making this move as much for Caroline as for himself is one that had helped him through many a night for the past few weeks. For too long he'd ignored what she would have wanted for him, and had instead allowed himself to sink in oblivion.

"No more," he stated firmly as he maneuvered the vehicle through the falling twilight.

New town, new job and a new place to live, it wasn't much of a life, but it was a start. A start that was sure to help him return to the land of the living. He couldn't help but enjoy the surge of empowerment that washed through him at the idea that good or bad, 1979 was bound to be different.

That was his last coherent thought as he heard a sudden bang and the wheel in his hand jerked out of his grasp. Given the high mountain road he'd been traveling on and the speed with which he was moving, he never had a chance.

888

**December 4, 2008**

Sam watched as his brother cut his way through the crowded bar, a beer bottle gripped in each hand.

Once by his side the older hunter offered one to Sam before dropping down onto the hard wooden chair with a grin. Gesturing grandly, his sibling tipped the chair back on two legs and said, "Now, see. This is living."

He raised one dark brow at Dean's declaration and took an exaggerated look around the dive they were currently in. "Really?"

With an enthusiastic nod, the green-eyed hunter slammed his hand down on the somewhat sticky tabletop and crowed, "Damn straight. Just you and me, guys in a guys bar. No My Pretty Pony or Strawberry Shortcake, no third grade homework, and no one arguing the merits of Transformers Animated versus Ben10."

Sam shrugged as his brother's rant wound down. "I like Ben10, that watch thing he's got going is pretty cool."

Dean's chair thumped down onto four legs as he leaned forward and agreed, "Better than that Transformers Animated crap. I mean, what the hell, Optimus doesn't even look like Optimus. It's like some freaky watered down version."

Careful to hide all signs of laughter, Sam nodded gravely. "Yeah, it's nothing compared to the old Transformers cartoons."

Using his beer to emphasis his words, Dean agreed, "My point exactly."

With a shake of his shaggy head, Sam finally allowed his amusement to bubble to the surface. "So this is why you drug me here instead of hitting the road for home. You wanted to debate the merits of the different Transformers."

"No," Dean growled as he swigged his beer. "Do you even listen to me. My point was..."

"Yeah?" Sam prompted.

"It was..."

"We're...men?"

"Exactly, we're men. And this is where we belong. Some seedy dive in the middle of nowhere, filled with bikers that would just as soon slit our throats as say hello. It's perfect."

Dean's ramble to convince Sam that they were having fun really wasn't a first. He'd come to realize the more his brother missed Sara and her kids the more he sought to pretend he didn't.

Normally, the Winchesters tried to get back to the house at the very least every two weeks for a couple days of downtime. However, due to a hunt that had taken longer than expected and a book tour that Sara had scheduled months ago, Dean and the widow hadn't seen each other in three weeks. Sam wasn't sure how Sara was faring but it was obvious the imposed separation was starting to wear on his brother.

Dean's insistence that they spend their last night of 'freedom' at some crap bar on the edge of a crappier town had simply been his brother's way of making a point. The lie would have been more believable if the older hunter didn't spend a large portion of his somewhat limited free-time talking to and about the Powers family. It was obvious Dean was trying too hard, but really who was Sam to point it out. The green-eyed hunter would come to the same conclusion sooner rather than later and they'd finally be able to get back on the road where they belonged.

Keeping an eye peeled for trouble from the rest of the 'men' that filled the bar, Sam continued to nurse his beer. He could hear Dean idly tapping his fingers against the wooden tabletop and he braced himself for an interruption. Dean didn't do bored well.

"Wanna throw some darts?"

Determined to let his sibling take the lead, Sam shrugged and set down his now empty bottle. "I'm game."

"Good," Dean said with a broad smile as he downed the remainder of his own beer.

"Good," Sam echoed gesturing toward the dartboard that rested against the nearest wall.

Dean stepped forward and pulled the darts from the board. "This is exactly what we needed, you know, no women, no kids just us," he said as he handed Sam his.

Sam waved at his brother to go first and added, "Being men."

"Right, being men." With a nod, Dean stepped up and drew back his arm.

Never one to back down from a challenge, even with something as simple as a game of darts, Sam focused on the board. Though he was good, scary good if one was to ask any of the guys he'd gone to college with, his ability didn't quite match his brother's. He was gonna need every bit of his skill and possibly some luck if he wanted to hold his own tonight.

With his focus centered on the board, it took a moment for him to realize that the other hunter had yet to take the shot. A glance over at the older man was enough to make Sam forget all about the competition.

Dean stood, poised to throw. Only instead of tossing the dart, he was staring blankly at the target.

"Dean?" Sam questioned with a faint grin.

With a shake of his head, Dean's expression cleared and he focused on Sam. "What?"

"You...a...plannin' on taking a shot anytime today?"

Despite the dim light of the bar, Sam swore he saw a faint blush crawling its way up his brother's cheeks as his big brother gestured toward the board, "I'm lining up my shot."

"Sure you are," Sam agreed with a broad smile. He had to admit watching Dean make an ass of himself was way more fun than any game.

Just then the leggy blond who'd served them their first round returned to the table with two more beers. The blue-eyed woman sized up both men, her glance lingering on Sam as she purred, "Can I get you boys anything else?"

Dean turned toward him and waggled one brow. "How about it, Sammy? You need anything else?"

Sam didn't miss his brothers pointed comment, but he refused to rise to the bait. "I'm good."

With a roll of his eyes, Dean turned back to the waitress, with tip in hand, and smiled. "Seems like we're good."

Not put off by his brother's dismissal, the blonde smiled and said, "Let me know if you change your mind."

With a nod, Dean assured her, "Will do."

"See what you missed out on, Sam," the older hunter teased as he gestured with his beer toward the bar where the blond now stood.

More than used to his brother's teasing, Sam ignored his words and gestured toward the board. "You think you're ready to toss that thing yet?"

Dean glanced toward the dart in his hand almost in surprise. "Yeah, guess I am."

"Don't sound so excited, dude," Sam joked as he took a drink.

"I'm excited!" Dean insisted, "I've been looking forward to this all week. Hanging out, beer in hand, playin' darts in some hole in the wall. It's just what I wanted."

Ready to throw his brother a lifeline, Sam offered, "You know, we leave now we'll be home by morning."

This time Dean's complete focus swung toward Sam. "What? Give up on our night out?"

"You really want all this?" Sam asked as he gestured to the surrounding bar. With a glance at his watch he continued, "We leave now, we'll get in before her plane lands."

Before Sam realized what was happening his brother had deposited his bottle back on the table and had grabbed up his coat.

"Let's go, Sammy boy, time's wastin'."

"So much for boys night out," Sam snorted as he watched his brother head for the double doors leading out to the parking lot. Glad to be heading home at last, Sam gathered up his own gear and followed him out into the cold night air.

888

"Come on, Sara, we're only gonna have a couple drinks. Then it's straight to bed, you'll have plenty of time to pack for your flight."

Sara drew in a deep breath and turned to smile at her agent. "Thanks, Janey, but I'm done in. I've got a phone call to make and then it's off to bed."

"Oh, come on. You're free for once and if anyone deserves a night out, it's you," the diminutive redhead insisted. "You've worked your ass off this week, have a little fun for once."

Sara had to admit, her agent was right in a lot of ways. The last week had been filled with stress as she'd traveled extensively for a publicity tour to promote her latest book. The novel had been well received but that didn't make the endless autograph sessions and meet and greets any easier.

She did deserve a night of fun. Problem was, tired beyond belief and stressed out over the constant traveling and mugging for fans, the last thing she wanted was to hang out in some high-end bar, surrounded by strangers and sipping cosmopolitans.

What she really wanted was a hot shower, a bit of room service and a chance to make a long overdue phone call. "Sorry, Jane, I'm gonna have to go with a rain check. I'm just not up to it"

Jane sighed dramatically as they came to the bank of hotel elevators. "Fine, killjoy, I'm gonna go celebrate without you."

Sara smiled and hugged the slighter girl tightly. "You do that,"

Happy to have escaped what she would have considered torture, Sara quickly punched the call button for the elevator and asked, "What time's your flight?"

Janey blew her heavy bangs out of her eyes and groaned, "I'm out on the six o'clock. You?"

"Not quite so bad," Sara said as the gleaming silver doors slid open, "I'm out at eight."

"Okay, well safe flight and call me this week. I want an update on Creed."

With a groan, Sara nodded and stepped into the elevator. "Will do," she called out with a wave to her friend.

Jane's not so subtle reminder about Creed only made Sara more sure that she'd done the right thing by calling it an early night. Despite the fact that she'd been on a publicity tour for the last week she'd still managed to get a good bit of work done. By calling it an early night, she might even manage another chapter before sleep overcame her.

Despite what other people might choose to think, her writing wasn't just a creative outlet, it was also a job. The fact that she'd found success was a bonus that she never took for granted. With bills to pay and mouths to feed, she never allowed herself to become complacent.

As the doors slid open once more, depositing her on her floor, Sara's thoughts turned to the phone in her hand. A glance at the screen showed that she'd received a text message not more than an hour ago. With a smile, she scrolled down to the message and began to read.

"Ms. Powers!"

"Ms. Powers!"

The sound of her name being shouted down the length of the corridor had Sara looking up in confusion.

A young man, dressed in a hotel uniform, was baring down on her with a kind of grim determination. In his hand he held a hardback book that looked suspiciously familiar. If she didn't know better she would have guessed the kid had been lying in wait for her.

Not wanting to wake the neighbors, she stood her ground and waited for the man to reach her. Already sure of what was coming, she glanced back down to the message on her phone. 'We're on our way', she read. Though the text was short and to the point, Sara couldn't help but feel a thrill.

It had been too long, nearly three weeks since she'd last seen him. Though it wasn't the longest they'd ever been apart, it was the limit of what she knew she could stand. If he hadn't been on his way home, she would have arranged to meet him on the road. Even just a short visit in some backwater town would have been preferable to the ache that had taken up residence in her heart.

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am, but do you think you could sign this for me? You're my favorite author."

Sara snapped back to the present and wiped the silly grin off her face. "I'd be happy to. What's your name?"

The guy swallowed loudly and replied, "It's Peter. I am your biggest fan."

Her biggest fan, like she hadn't heard that one a million times this week. "Thanks, Peter," she said as she quickly signed the inside of the book. Hoping to keep this short, she smiled and handed the novel back to him. "Here you go. Glad you've enjoyed it."

Peter smiled and nodded up and down several times. "I loved it. I mean I can't believe the stuff you come up with. That flesh eating clown completely freaked me out."

Confident that Peter was better off not knowing that the clown in her book had actually existed, Sara merely grinned. "Glad you dug it." Anxious to make her call, she smiled once more and turned to go. "Nice meeting you, Peter."

"Wait!"

With her back to the bellhop, and her room now in sight, Sara nearly cursed at the young man's call. Knowing she was well and truly caught, she turned and asked, "Yes?"

The bellhop gulped once more and took a couple deep breaths before at last asking, "Would you want to go get a drink or something. I would so love to talk to you about your work."

Sara stared at the kid, who had to be nearly fifteen years her junior, in surprise. "Um, I'm sorry, but, it's been a really long day and my flight leaves early."

Peter's face flushed with embarrassment as he stammered, "Oh...sure....yeah. I mean sure."

"I appreciate the offer though," she replied, not wanting to hurt the kid's feelings.

Peter seemed to breathe a bit easier at her words. "No worry."

Now more than ready to make her escape, Sara turned toward her room once more.

"Wait!"

"Damn," she cursed unable to help herself. She only hoped the kid hadn't heard it. Slowly turning to face him she asked, "Yeah?"

"Did you need a wake up call? For your flight?"

Tension leaked out of Sara's shoulders as she shot the young man a genuine smile. "That'd be great. If you could make it for five-thirty."

Peter smiled importantly and lifted one hand in acknowledgement. "Will do."

"Thanks," she said as she turned and practically raced down the hallway toward her room. With one last smile at Peter who stood where she'd left him, Sara maneuvered the key card and swung open the door.

Afraid she was about to be called back, she ducked inside and quickly shut the door, throwing the deadbolt on to be sure. Alone at last she double-checked the salt lines that lay in front of the door and windows. Satisfied they remained unbroken, she set about packing the last of her belongings.

888

Sara collapsed onto the bright white counterpane adorning the hotel bed with a sigh of contentment. After packing all but a few necessities, she'd treated herself to an hour long bath complete with oils and her I-pod. It had been nothing short of heaven. As a widowed mother of three young children uninterrupted time was hard if not impossible to find. What little time she did manage to carve out for herself was usually spent working.

Though she missed her kids with a fierce ache that seemed to live in her chest, she also relished the time alone. As her gaze drifted toward the cell phone clutched in her hand she couldn't help but think how much more she'd appreciate the alone time if she wasn't quite so alone.

Ready to indulge herself once more, Sara hit the familiar speed dial button and listened to the steady ring.

"'lo"

"Hey,"

"Hey, there," Dean replied in a quiet voice.

The sound washed over Sara teasing out the last bit of tension in her body. Their daily phone call had become a habit that she depended on. "I got your text. I thought you and Sammy boy were gonna do the bar scene tonight. Relax a bit before hitting the road."

Dean chuckled then admitted, "Yeah, well beer and stale peanuts in some biker bar just didn't seem quite as exciting as it used to."

This time it was Sara who laughed. "That right...hm... I don't know, sounds a bit like you're growing up, Winchester."

"Naw," Dean insisted with a little growl. "I've just got other things on my mind."

The throaty growl had Sara curling her toes in response as she replied, "Other things, huh?"

"Yup, I'll go into more detail when I see you tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to that," she teased. "You know I spoke to the kids tonight. They asked to spend one more night at my mom's."

This time there was nothing lazy about Dean's reply. "You mean we'll be alone tomorrow night?"

With a smile she couldn't seem to stop, Sara confirmed, "Yup," With her words she could have sworn she heard the guttural growl of the Impala speeding up. "You know going mach speed won't get me home any sooner."

Dean's sexy chuckle confirmed her suspicions. "Maybe not, but I'd rather be at your place waiting then risk losing even one minute with you."

Satisfied they'd be together sooner than later, Sara snuggled deeper into the bed.

As if he'd heard her movements, Dean asked, "What are you doing?"

"Just getting tucked in. I'm wiped."

"You double checked the salt lines?"

Happy to have someone to fuss over her for a change, Sara reassured him, "Yup, I'm locked down for the night."

"And tomorrow, you have protection for the plane?"

Okay, so maybe someone fussing wasn't quite so endearing. "I'm a big girl, Dean. I can manage a plane ride home."

"Yeah, well I don't want you to risk anything. You're like a damn magnet for trouble."

Irritation surged through Sara at his insinuation. "Me! That's a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?"

Dean's voice rose as he insisted, "I'm not the one that keeps getting kidnapped."

"Argh," Sara growled as she sat up, her earlier warm and fuzzy feelings completely gone. "Are you kidding me? Gordon was human so he doesn't count, and how was I to know Greg was some kind of Peruvian Vampire."

"You let him into your life, Sara, should'a been your first clue that he was trouble."

With his words, every bit of Sara's anger deflated. Slumping back down on the bed she asked, "Are you insinuating I've got bad taste in men, Dean, cause I'd like to remind you, you had more interest in Greg than I did."

"Is that right?" the younger man asked in a low voice.

"Yeah, you stubborn ass." Time and time again, Sara had tried to convince the hunter that he was the only man since her husband was killed that had come close to touching her heart. She had little doubt it was their enforced time apart that was causing the younger man's sudden doubts. She'd learned when it came to Dean words only went so far. Tomorrow, she would just have to let her actions do the talking.

"So?"

"So?" Sara echoed as she snuggled under the covers once more.

"What are you wearing?"

With a grin, she replied, "Don't you think you should keep your mind on the road and out of the gutter?"

"Come on," Dean cajoled, "I need something to keep me awake."

More than happy to drop the serious stuff until they were face to face, Sara played along. "hm...well I'm wearing the tiniest pair of black silk panties and a sheer black silk camisole."

"Will that do?" she asked after a long pause.

"Definitely fantasy worthy," the sound of Dean's husky voice curled down her spine infusing her with heat.

"Happy to oblige."

"Happy to lie, you mean," he laughed. "The reality is you're probably curled up on one side of that big bed in a pair of wool socks, jogging pants and one of my old tees."

Sara couldn't help but laugh, he knew her all to well. "Well, I'm cold."

"You can bet you wouldn't be cold if I was there."

"I have to admit, if you were here there'd be a lot less layers."

"Guh," Dean groaned at the image. "You don't know how much I wish I was."

Sara's laugh was equally shaky. "It's been three weeks, Dean, trust me I understand."

"We'll be there early," Dean promised. "When's your flight get in?"

"It's an eight o'clock takeoff and a three hour flight."

"Good. You need me to pick you up?"

Sara rolled over and flipped off the lamp that sat next to the bed. "I left the van at the airport. I'm good. There's no food in the house, though, you boys'll have to fend for yourselves for a bit."

Dean's low laugh had Sara smiling in response. "Fend for ourselves, huh? I think we can manage."

As her sleep heavy eyes slipped shut, Sara mumbled, "Yeah, but you shouldn't have to."

"Alright, well, I'm gonna put some miles under us. I'll see you soon."

"Soon," Sara mumbled as she hit the end button and dropped the phone to the bed next to her. Drifting off, thoughts of Dean keeping her warm, Sara was asleep in minutes.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Chapter Notes:**

Well everyone I just wanted to say thanks for the great response to this story. Glad to see you're not all sick of poor Sara yet...lol. Also, to those that nominated Thank you, Awake and Enrapture for the ungen awards, well that just makes my day. That you all so readily embrace Sara and her family is the biggest compliment you could give me. That being said, hope you enjoy - Kel ;)

**Chapter 2**

888

The beginning chords of Kansas' Carry on Wayward Son yanked Sara out of dreamland with a gasp. Her cell phone continued to play the tune, goading her into action. With one fumbling hand, she snagged her glasses off the nightstand and slipped them into place. Finally able to see, she quickly skimmed her gaze along the table before realizing that the ringing was coming from beside her. A quick run of her hands over the disheveled bed and she found the phone, just in time for the ringing to stop.

With a curse for everything technological, she hit the recall button and returned the call. There had been no reason for her to check the caller ID. The people that meant the most to Sara were each assigned their own tone. This month, Dean's tone was Wayward Son. The idea that the hardened hunter, who took on the world to protect those he loved, would eventually find peace was one that resonated with her.

"Sara?"

"Hey?" she mumbled in response to the younger man's greeting.

"We're just pulling in your drive," Dean replied. "I figured I'd try and catch you before you boarded."

"Boarded?"

"The plane? You do know you have to get on it so it'll bring you home to me."

A faint grin tugged at Sara's lips as she felt a flutter in her chest at his rumbled response. "You're not the only one looking forward to this reunion."

Dean chuckled in response. "Well, then get your ass on that plane and come prove it to me."

Sara rolled over, one hand draped across her forehead as she replied, "I'm moving. What time is it anyway?"

"What, did security steal your watch from you?"

Still listening to the timbre of his words, more than his actual responses, Sara admitted, "It's on the nightstand but I'm too sleepy to grab for it."

A momentary pause in the conversation was all the encouragement Sara needed to allow her eyes to slip shut once more.

"Sara," Dean snapped his tone absent of its earlier teasing quality, "You're at the airport, right?"

Dean's words, devoid of all humor, had Sara sitting up in bed and staring at the phone she held in her hand. "Aw, shit," she practically screeched as she read the time. "I'm late."

Off the bed in a flash, the brunette tossed her phone on the bedspread and began pulling off her clothes like a madman. Though she could hear Dean's muffled shouts, she refused to pick up the phone until she'd drug on her jeans and tee-shirt. At last, she grabbed the cell up off the bed and pressed it against her ear as she moved toward the suitcase she'd packed last night. "I gotta go, Dean. I'll call you as soon as I can."

Without listening to his response, Sara tucked the phone in her pocket and grabbed the jacket she'd left lying out. Once she'd shrugged into it she shoved the last of her things in the suitcase and grabbed at the backpack that waited nearby.

All total, she was dressed, packed, and out the door of her room in less than five minutes. Unable to help herself, she kept shooting glances toward the watch on her wrist as she prayed she would find a free cab.

888

"What's up?" Sam asked as he noticed his brother give the phone in his hand an exasperated look.

"She overslept. She's just now heading to the airport."

Sam winced in sympathy. Though they had plans to stay until Christmas, tonight was one of the couple's rare opportunities to enjoy each other without a houseful of kids. With a glance at his watch, the younger hunter said, "She might still make it."

"Here's hoping," Dean groaned as he pulled in front of Sara's garage.

The elder hunter pulled into the open bay, next to Sara's beloved jeep and shut down the car. "I'm gonna grab a shower and then get some food."

Sam climbed out and reached for his computer bag. "Sounds good, I'm gonna throw in a load of laundry and hit Sara's computer."

His brother grinned up at him as he held out Sam's duffle. "You're way too in love with that computer."

Sam chuckled and hiked his bag up and over his shoulder. As he reached out to take the bag, he nodded his shaggy head in agreement. "Probably, you got the door?"

Not bothering to wait for his brother's confirmation, Sam made a beeline for the house. He was feeling the three cups of coffee he'd downed with breakfast earlier, and his only thought was for the bathroom inside. Dropping his gear on the floor near the door, he bypassed his and Dean's bathroom and instead opted for the hall bath at the back of the house.

As he cut through the dining room, he cast a glance about in surprise at not finding Jack. The big dog was a more than proficient watch dog and even if he'd recognized the throaty growl of the Impala's engine when they pulled into the garage, the big beast should still have been their to welcome them.

It wasn't until he stepped into the kitchen that he realized they weren't alone. Without a sound, Sam pulled his gun from where it was tucked into the back of his jeans and called out, "Hold it!"

The slim figure standing in front of the open refrigerator door turned his head to stare open-mouthed at the young hunter.

One glance at the pimple-faced teen, staring at him with a terror-filled gaze, had Sam easing up his stance. Though it wasn't one of Sara's nephews, Sam figured the kid couldn't be much older.

"Sam!"

Dean's questioning call had Sam smiling slightly; no one could put as much emotion into his name as his older brother. "Here."

At his reply, the older hunter eased into the kitchen his weapon at the ready. "Who the hell are you?" Dean matched his question with a kick to the open fridge door, causing the kid to jump out of the way as the door swung shut.

Only an inch or two shorter than Dean, the teen couldn't have weighed more than a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. All bones and angles he stood there under their scrutiny with his hands held up in supplication, a beer gripped tight in the right one.

"Better yet, what the hell are you doing stealing my beer?" Dean growled.

"My...name's....Drew...please don't hurt me."

As the kid stammered his reply, Sam glanced at his brother, noticing the way Dean's stance eased. It was obvious he some idea who the kid was, but intended to teach him a lesson. More than willing to play along, Sam moved to stand slightly behind his brother and snapped, "What are you doing in here?"

With an audible gulp, Drew answered, "Sar..."

At the use of Sara's first name, tension began to creep back into Dean's form. Happy to teach the kid a lesson, but unwilling to have to bury his pre-pubescent ass, Sam shook his head and frowned at the kids audacity.

"Uh....I mean Ms. Sar..." Again the kid's words trailed off as Sam shook his head once more.

Dean wasn't John Winchester's son for nothing. As kids their dad had drilled it into them that using an adult's first name was a right only allowed for family. Not the right of some punk stealing beer from the woman he was working for. Sam could only hope the kid hadn't done anything more nefarious, or he might end up having to defend him.

"Mrs. Powers hired me to take care of the place."

"So, Mrs. Powers hired you to what, take care of Jack, water the plants, get the mail, that kind of thing?"

Oblivious to the deadly intent in Dean's tone, Drew smiled a bit smugly and shrugged. "Yeah, I stop over every morning, again in the afternoon and evening."

"And she's paying you?" Sam questioned as his own temper flared.

"Yup, she always asks me to look after the place."

"Huh," Dean said as he at last tucked his gun away. "Is that right? She always asks you."

"She trusts me," The kid replied his grin growing wider by the minute.

"Right she trusts you with Jack," Dean growled as he crossed his arms over his chest and loomed over the boy. "So where is he?"

Dean's question seemed to throw a spoke in the kid's bravado. Suddenly he seemed a lot less sure of himself. "I let him outside."

"Let him out and left him?" Sam straightened to his own max height and glanced dramatically around the room. "And where's the mail?"

"St...still, uh, in the box."

Dean reached out, swiping the beer from the teen's hand and gestured to it. "And this?"

"I wasn't...I mean you startled me and I was moving....I..."

Under Dean and Sam's steady gaze the kid finally allowed his excuses to die off. With a sigh, he dropped his chin to his chest and muttered, "I was only going to take one."

"Anything else you need to confess, you pocket any money, have any friends over...rifle through her underwear drawer?" Dean demanded.

The youth swiped a hand across his eyes and sniffed. "No, I wouldn't do anything like that. Sa...Mrs. Powers knows that."

"Yeah, well I'm pretty sure she doesn't know that you do a half-assed job caring for her dog and getting the mail. Plus, I know for a fact, she'd be the first one to kick your scrawny ass if she knew you even thought about snakin' a beer."

Dean's words seemed to strike a chord in Drew as he sniffed even louder and used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe his nose. "You gonna tell her?"

"No," Dean said with a sigh as he opened the fridge door and set the bottle back inside. "I'm not. Sara likes you, she thinks you're a good kid and I'm not gonna hurt her by telling her otherwise."

As the kid lifted his head in surprise, Dean held up a hand and continued, "But, I'm also not covering for you. When she gets home, you're gonna refuse to take her money and you're gonna confess that you didn't do as well as you should. Knowing Sara, she'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Don't disappoint her again."

At Dean's declaration, the kid nodded happily. "I won't, I swear."

"Good" Dean nodded as he waved toward the front door. "Now get your ass to school."

Happy to be off the hook, the kid took Dean's words to heart and bolted toward the front door. Once there he turned the knob, ripped open the heavy door, and was promptly hit by nearly two hundred pounds of smelly dog. Before Sam could blink, the youth had regained his balance, darted past Jack and out into the early morning sun.

"Kid can move."

Dean took a knee and held one hand out to the big Saint Bernard that was happily growling at him. "Yeah, well, fear's a good motivator."

"Sara really say he was a good kid?"

At his brother's question, Dean let out a chuckle and shrugged, "She never mentioned him. Though, knowing her if she left him to care for Jack she probably thinks he is. She's always too happy to give people the benefit of the doubt."

Sam grinned as he side-stepped the now lounging saint and headed for the bathroom. "Imagine that."

888

"You don't understand. I have to get home. I have my ticket and I bought it months ago. That's my seat you gave away." Sara worked hard to keep the anger she felt out of her voice. Her chances of getting on the plane would only decrease if she got pissy with the flight attendant that was blocking her access to the plane.

"Ma'am as I have explained once already, the flight was overbooked. You were the last one to arrive so unfortunately it's a case of first come first serve. Now, I've asked twice if anyone would be interested in giving up their seats, but, with the Christmas holiday so close, no one's willing. There is nothing more that I can do."

"I've already checked my luggage," Sara insisted, she had one night and only one night to make up for three weeks of loneliness, there was no way she was ready to concede the fight.

"No problem, we can have it pulled before takeoff. On behalf of American Airlines I do offer my apologies, if you'd like to step over to customer service I'm sure they can help you." With her words, the woman turned, giving Sara her back.

Summarily dismissed, Sara closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath. She could not believe this was happening. This entire morning had been like a waking nightmare. As she stood in the middle of the airport, she swore to herself that if she ever ran into Pete again he was a dead man. At last, admitting defeat, she forced her eyes open and turned toward the customer service desk.

She'd traveled often enough to know the airline was going to throw everything under the sun at her to make up for their overbooking. Problem was, free hotel rooms and airfare to anywhere in the continental United States wasn't going to do her any good, not unless that anywhere happened to be Philadelphia in the next two hours.

As she moved toward the counter, she began to run contingency plans through her tired mind. She was so focused on what she was going to do next, it took her ten minutes to register she was watching her plane taxi away from the building.

"Crap," she cursed as she watched the flight prepare to leave.

Too late to do anything more than watch her suitcase take her flight home, Sara strove for control. "One, two, three..." she counted as she resolutely kept her gaze off the plane. Counting was a trick she'd mastered long ago to control her temper. It was the sole reason her three children had survived as long as they had. She only hoped the technique kept her from spilling blood here today.

At last, it was her turn at the counter.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, I was supposed to be on flight 636 to Philly International but I got bumped."

The perky blonde, who couldn't have been a day over twenty, smiled widely at Sara and tipped her head in sympathy. "Oh, no, that's just too darn bad."

Sara wasn't sure how she was supposed to believe the woman was feeling at all contrite given the jaw cracking smile the kid was flashing her. "Yeah, well, I need to book a seat on the next flight out, and find my luggage. I'm pretty sure it just took off without me."

"Oh, no, well isn't that just awful."

Again with head tilt, Sara thought as she agreed, "Uh huh, awful, so what now?"

"Well, now, let's see..." the woman began as she consulted her computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard that sat in front of her. "Well, I can have you in the air by ten."

Outlook brightening, Sara beamed at the young girl. "Ten, this morning, that's perfect."

"Oh, no, I meant ten o'clock p.m., that's the next flight into Philly. Now, it looks like there's an hour layover in Baltimore so you could expect to arrive in Philadelphia by two a.m."

Certain at this point that if the woman before her said 'Oh, no' one more time she'd scream, Sara forced a smile and said, "that's a four hour flight. I'm only five hours from home if I were to drive it."

"Really, only five hours? I never realized that Philadelphia was so close." Here the girl leaned closer and gestured vaguely with her pen. "I have a cousin who lives in Trenton, how far are you from there."

Ready to start counting again, Sara replied, "Trenton's in New Jersey. I live about an hour from there. Is there someone else I could talk to...about getting a flight?"

"Oh, no,--"

Sara held up a hand, cutting the girl off in mid word and turned from the counter. As she walked away, she heard the young girl calling her name. Certain if she wanted to stay out of jail, she should just walk away, Sara ignored her.

As she wandered across the tarmac, a sign for car rentals caught her eye.

888

With a groan of pleasure, Dean tipped back his head and allowed a steady stream of hot water to wash the shampoo out of his hair and down his face.

Water rolled down his skin, the heat easing every last twinge. Nothing soothed away the aches and pains better than a tank full of hot water and some good water pressure. Both were rarities given the flea-infested motels and shitty apartments he'd spent most of his life living in.

It was only here, in this house that he allowed himself to fully relax, to let go of the control that was so much a part of him. Here, there were no monsters, no shadows waiting in the corners to tear his life apart. Here, there was only the day to day of living.

That wasn't to say sadness hadn't touched Sara's life, she simply refused to allow it to change her. Unlike John Winchester, when tragedy struck the Powers' family, Sara had refused to let it alter who she really was. She'd taken precautions to keep her family safe with the new knowledge she'd acquired, but, she hadn't allowed it to rule her life.

Though he wasn't wired that way, Dean had to admire her for it.

Her children would live the life they wanted with the information they were given. If they wanted to hunt it would be for altruistic reasons. There would be no drive for revenge fueling their choices. For Sara's children choosing the job would be no different than choosing a military career.

"Dean"

The sound of Sammy calling him jerked him back to reality. Edging aside the shower curtain, he stuck his head out and snapped, "What?"

"Sara just called, she missed the flight."

"Damn," he swore as he turned off the shower spray.

Sam nodded his agreement. "There's no more flights into Philadelphia until ten tonight."

"Of all the friggin' nights", Dean muttered to himself as he ran a hand down his face, wicking away the water. "So, she'll be in by...?"

Here, Sam shot him a wry grin. "Yeah, well you know Sara. That's not good enough, so she's renting a car. From what she figures she ought to get here no later than four this afternoon."

"She's driving?" Dean sighed as he snaked an arm around the curtain and grabbed for the towel that hung on the rack.

"You think she'd rather sit around some airport all day waiting for a flight?" Sam questioned.

Dean had to agree with his brother, Sara was never one to take the path of least resistance. In fact, she usually refused to go around a problem when she could simply tromp her way right over it.

"Listen, I'm gonna head out, stock up on supplies. You need anything?"

"You getting something to eat?"

"What do you think?"

With a grin, Dean offered up his order, "I want a cheesesteak, extra onions."

"You really sure you want to do that to Sara?" Sam asked with a smug smile.

Dean considered his plans for the evening and conceded, "Yeah, you're right, skip the onions."

"I'm sure Sara will appreciate your sacrifice." With a wave of acknowledgement, the younger hunter headed out, closing the door behind him.

With his brother gone, Dean flung back the curtain and began briskly drying himself. As he worked the towel down his torso, he ran down the short list of things he wanted to get done before Sara arrived.

888

Sara glanced over at the GPS mounted on the dashboard of her Ford Taurus and noted her arrival time. She was doing great. It had taken only fifteen minutes to get a car at the Hertz desk, and she'd been on her way in less than twenty. Though this little trip was gonna cost her, the payoff would be well worth it.

Now, if only retrieving her luggage had been as easy. Despite the flight rep's assurances that her luggage had been removed before takeoff, Sara wasted another twenty minutes as they tried to produce her one lone suitcase. Finally, as the last of her patience drained away, she'd given the airport all of her pertinent information and had left her black Samsonite suitcase, full of jeans, button down shirts and her one lone pair of slacks, up for lost

That left her to make her way home to Pennsylvania with nothing more than a hoodie, her wallet, and a backpack containing her newest manuscript and her I-pod. The only item she truly regretted not having was her cell phone charger. There was no way her phone had enough charge to make it all the way home, she would have to keep it turned off for the majority of the trip.

A sign proclaiming an upcoming rest stop had Sara merging into the right lane and then onto the off ramp. As she pulled into one of the diagonal parking spaces, she climbed stiffly from the car. Despite the chill in the air, the park-like setting was beautiful. Ignoring the call of the bathroom, for the moment, she drifted toward one of the many picnic tables and settled down on the tabletop. A few more deep breaths of the cool crisp air helped to chase the last of the cobwebs from her mind.

Suitably relaxed, she pressed the speed dial and waited for a familiar voice to answer.

"Where are you?"

Sara couldn't help but smile at the worry that infused that one gruff statement. "Hm...I'm about an hour on the road, just stopped for some caffeine."

"Good," Dean breathed.

The widow could actually visualize how the tension would seep out of Dean's lean frame at her reassurance. To say that the younger man fussed over her safety was like stating water was wet. It was obvious in everything he did and said. "I just wanted to let you know I should be home by four no problem. I gotta turn off the cell though, my battery's on its way out and I don't have my charger."

Again, Dean's voice conveyed his worry. "You forgot it?"

Sara sighed and rolled her eyes. "Nope, but it's in my luggage, which I expect to land in Philadelphia within the hour."

"Damn this sucks," the hunter breathed. "Where'd you stop?"

Dean's reminder of her location had Sara looking about with a judicious eye. Though it was daylight and fairly early in the morning it never paid to forget your surroundings. "Rest stop outside of Washington."

A minute long pause had Sara double-checking her reception. "Dean?"

"A rest stop outside of one of the most dangerous cities in the country, that's where you choose to stop?"

Sara rolled her eyes and snapped, "Yes, Dad, I'm at a rest-stop. You know one of those well lit, open and frequently patrolled places that people use all the time."

Completely ignoring the anger in her voice, he snapped, "I'm coming to get you. I'll come down, pick you up and we'll ditch the rental."

Despite the faint feel of flattery at the idea that he would go to such extremes to keep her safe, Sara remained firm. "No, I will be home by four just like I promised. If I hit any snags, I will call you and let you know. You got me Winchester?"

At last, he replied gruffly, "You get back in your car, lock all the doors and keep the windows rolled up. If you're so much as four minutes late and don't call, you can bet your ass I'm gonna come looking. You got that?"

Satisfied she'd won the battle if not the war, Sara promised without hesitation. "Four minutes, I got it." In a softer tone she continued, "I'll be there, Dean, I promise."

"You'd better be," he replied with a groan.

"Take care of yourself," Sara replied by rote.

"Hey, don't worry about me, Jack and I are watching the game and kicking back with a couple beers."

Recognizing the weak joke as an apology of sorts, Sara laughed, "You'd better not give that dog beer. Last time it took two days before he sobered up."

"Aw, come on, Sam's abandoned me for that super computer of yours, who else am I supposed to relaxe with?"

With a smile, Sara stood and hopped down from the bench seat. "A couple more hours and I'll be the one drooling all over you."

"I like the sound of that," Dean joked. "Be safe."

"Will do," she replied and then closed the phone.

Eager to be on the road again, Sara jogged toward the bathrooms.

888

At the first strains of Smoke on the Water, Sam leapt for the phone, nimbly flipping it open and cutting the song off in mid play. "Hello?"

"Sam?"

A glance toward his brother, who lay sprawled across Sara's couch, was enough to confirm the phone hadn't awakened the exhausted hunter. Not wanting to interrupt the little sleep that Dean had managed to get, the younger hunter slipped from the room before replying.

"Hey, Sara. How you making out?"

"Ugh, friggin' traffic's killing me."

Sam glanced toward his wristwatch and asked, "You gonna make your deadline?"

"I'm not sure, that's why I was calling. Can you do me a favor, find me a way around Washington? The GPS gave me a new route but I don't wanna end up on the backend of nowhere."

With a low laugh, Sam headed toward Sara's office. "Yeah, I can't blame you there, I've spent a lot of time on the backend of nowhere, it's not all that fun."

"Thanks, Sam. I'm getting nowhere. Way its going now, I'm gonna end up wishing I'd stuck around for that flight."

"That bad, huh?" Sam questioned as he quickly called up Sara's mapping soft wear.

"Yeah, way worse than I figured."

The younger Winchester quickly studied the map and asked, "You thinking about taking two-seventy to eighty-one?"

"Yeah," Sara said with a sigh. "I've done eighty-one and it's not bad."

"It looks as if it's a bit out of the way, but you'll avoid most of Washington, Baltimore and Philadelphia, it'll probably be faster."

With a resigned sigh, Sara continued, "That's good enough for me. Thanks for double checking and tell your brother I'm thinking closer to four thirty."

Having listened to an hour-long tirade of all the catastrophes that could occur in a public rest stop, Sam warned, "Just get here safe."

Sara's laugh came through loud and clear as she promised, "I will. It wouldn't be fair of me to leave you to deal with him on your own."

"I have to admit, his fascination with your safety has definitely given me some breathing room."

"Glad to be of service, Sam. See you soon."

At Sara's goodbye, he snapped his brother's phone shut and eyed the route he'd just gone over for the widow.

"'s that Sara?"

Dean's gruff voice interrupted Sam's musings. "Yup," he confirmed. "She's running a half-hour late."

"What's with the map?" the older hunter questioned as he stepped up behind Sam.

"She's getting off ninety-five. Too much traffic."

Running a hand through his short hair, Dean yawned and stared at the route for a moment. "She should be good now. There's nothing between her and Harrisburg if she goes with two-seventy."

Sam nodded his agreement, "That's what I told her."

"Good, she turn her phone back off?"

"I'm sure, the battery's low." Sam could see the worry clouding his brother's bright green gaze. Needing to offer some reassurance Sam replied, "She'll be here, Dean."

"You're right. It'll be fine."

** TBC**

Chapter End Notes:

A quick thanks to Fredo, for patience and beta, she's probably re-considering the offer now that she knows how comma illiterate I am...lol Catch you all on Friday - Kel ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

888

"Rising up, back on the street…" Sara sang at the top of her lungs. She didn't know what it was about that cheesy song, but lately she couldn't get enough of it. It didn't help that her three kids insisted on singing the classic jewel every time they got in the car. Nothing brightened her day more than listening to Jessica warble her way through Rocky's theme song.

Thrumming her hands against the steering wheel, she glanced at the digital read-out on the GPS, happy to find she was on-schedule. Once she'd reached route seventy-eight, a road she'd traveled on countless times before, it had become harder and harder to keep a thought in her head.

After three weeks alone, the prospect of spending an uninterrupted evening with Dean was leaving her giddy as a schoolgirl. That combined with the upcoming holiday had her singing her heart out right along with Survivor. "…you change your passion for glory. Don't—"

So focused was she on the song, it actually took her a moment to realize that her powerhouse tune had been replaced with a more seasonal selection, "…Let your heart be bright…"

A glance toward the Ford's radio showed she was still tuned into 'The Bone' Easton's hard rock station. Unsure of just when Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas trumped Survivor's Eye Of The Tiger in the rock genre, Sara leaned forward and hit the seek button.

Though she was all for getting into the spirit of things, after a week spent on the road, she found herself not quite ready to fall into the whole holiday spirit bit. As the radio at last settled on a station, a familiar refrain broke the silence, "…From now on our troubles will be…"

With a frown for all the disc jockeys that considered it their duty to shove Christmas joy down their listeners throats, she again hit the seek button, determined to find something ear shattering and completely non-Christmasy.

"…Hang a shiny star, upon the highest bow…"

This time the familiar refrain sent a tickle of unease down the widow's neck. With both hands tightly gripping the wheel, she eased up on the gas pedal and changed back into the right lane. Feeling slightly more in control, she hesitatingly reached a hand out toward the stereo.

Before she could once again adjust the tuner, a massive gust of wind battered the side of the car causing her to jerk the wheel slightly to remain between the white lines.

Done playing, Sara kept her gaze trained on the road that arced beneath her tires and shoved at the off button on the radio. Better to arrive in silence than not at all, she figured, as she slowed even more.

Normally, she had no problem making the most of the speed limit. Given the smooth, deserted stretch of road she now found herself on, she should have been putting that limit to the test. Instead, she found herself wary of even maintaining the minimum.

The one downfall to the highway she was cruising was its height. In the past, tractor-trailers and buses had found themselves at the mercy of winds strong enough to tip them over. Though that shouldn't be a problem for the low-slung Taurus, that didn't stop Sara from worrying about the earlier gust that had rocked the rental.

"….Faithful friends who are dear to us…"

This time the jerk of the wheel was caused by her own two hands as she reacted to the song that was suddenly blaring through the car speakers. As her passenger side tires hit the gravel of the shoulder, Sara compensated, bringing the vehicle back to center.

Now sweating, she hit the brake intending to pull over and get the hell away from Satan's rental car. However, as she pressed her left foot down, the speedometer continued to climb pushing her from a somewhat sedate fifty-five miles an hour to a law-breaking seventy.

Pumping the brake in the hopes of seeking out some kind of response, she frantically tried to remember just what you were supposed to do if your brakes failed. Of course, the only time she'd actually heard of anyone's brakes failing had been in movies about husbands that were working on securing bachelorhood without all that messy divorce paperwork. Finally, as she glanced down and saw the needle of the car nose up to seventy-three, she fumbled beside her for the handbrake.

She was certain, or well, pretty-sure she'd once heard that engaging the emergency parking brake could slow you down if not stop you altogether. As it became harder and harder to maintain the speed she was traveling while trying not to fly off the road, she decided it was worth giving it a go. With a yank, she pulled up the brake.

Never had she been so thankful as she was when the tires screeched and shuddered and she began to slow. With a glance in her rearview to check her way was clear, she began to nose the slowing vehicle onto the shoulder.

Her tires had just reached the crushed gravel roadway when another unholy gust of wind slammed against the car, rocking it toward the guardrail. Expecting to only nudge the metal rail given her speed, Sara felt her heart slam into her chest as the car suddenly surged forward crashing into the rail with enough force to slam her backward.

With a screech of screaming metal and the car engine inexplicably racing, Sara heard more than saw the guard give way, allowing the nose of the car to tip forward over the edge of the embankment.

There was one single moment when, balanced on the edge of the pavement, the widow actually found herself breathing a prayer of thanks. Then, another blast of air hit the car, rocking it forward. As she began her descent, Sara had only seconds to realize she was now out of the fight. Live or die, it was all going to depend on the path the car was nosing down. With her arms clenching the steering wheel to help her remain in her seat, Sara tried her best to brace for impact.

"…Have yourself a merry little Christmas…"

888

Dean allowed the curtain to fall back across the window with a sigh. Another glance at the clock resting above the fireplace mantle had the crease in his forehead deepening. Something was wrong. Sara was nearly a half-hour late and she'd yet to call with an explanation.

That simply wasn't like the woman who'd wormed her way into his heart to become his best friend and lover.

Incapable of being less than honest, Sara had made it clear straight from the get-go what she expected from their relationship. Faithfulness and honesty had topped the list, running a close third had been friendship.

Four years ago her husband's unexpected death had left her pregnant with Jess and raising two small boys on her own. Never one to burden those around her, she had set out from the beginning to take care of her own.

In facing the daunting task, Sara had worked hard to bury her fears and insecurities. She became certain if she gave voice to her doubts, she'd end up robbing herself of the ability to do what needed to be done.

Then, with a strength that at times still amazed Dean, she'd managed to forge a new life out of the ashes of her old.

Luckily, for the hunter, Sara had recognized a kindred spirit within him. She seemed to intuitively understand that he, more than anyone, could appreciate the pressure she was under, the strain it put on her to appear confident and in charge when she was foundering in self-doubt.

Refusing to lean on anyone, and faced with raising three children on her own, he couldn't help but admire her strength. However as she took the risk and allowed him to see her vulnerability, Dean had come to admire her even more.

In each other, they had finally found a measure of peace.

At least when she wasn't at death's door. He still couldn't decide if it was his presence jeopardizing her safety, or if it was all Sara. Sam insisted the fact that she'd been a victim of a vampire attack long before the Winchesters had staggered into her life was all the proof he should need, but Dean still had his doubts.

"Something's wrong," Dean muttered as he moved back toward the front window.

Jack, who hadn't moved more than a foot from his side since they'd arrived, whined his agreement. The dog's large liquid brown eyes seemed to echo Dean's worry as he lumbered to his feet and moved to the hunter's side. Dean braced himself as the massive tri-colored face was shoved against his jean-clad leg with a pitiful whimper.

Though he'd never considered himself a dog person, Sara's four year-old Saint Bernard had managed to worm his way into Dean's heart every bit as much as the rest of the Power's family. It was impossible to witness the dog's loyalty to his mistress and her children and not find yourself slightly awed. It also didn't hurt that the dog had once sacrificed himself to save his own brother.

Having trouble keeping his balance given the canine's pushing, Dean gave in and dropped to the ground. Of course, having gotten exactly what he wanted, Jack promptly crawled up and onto the hunter's lap. Ignoring the hair and the drool, Dean plunged his hands into Jack's thick warm coat and whispered his reassurance, "She'll be home soon, big guy."

888

"…from now on our troubles will be out of sight…"

Sara awoke to pain and the sound of Rosemary Clooney. Given the off-road trip she'd just taken, the pain was to be expected, the Christmas tune not so much. With a groan, she moved one shaking hand to press against her throbbing forehead. The wetness that coated her fingers wasn't surprising given the pounding she'd just taken.

Judging the wound to be superficial at most, she forced her eyes open to take stock. Given the pull of the seat belt, she wasn't surprised to find she rested on her side, pressed up against the driver's side door.

"…Make the yuletide gay…"

She couldn't recall just how many times the car had rolled on its way down, but she knew it had seemed to take forever before it had finally come to a jarring halt. A need to get free of the wreckage became a fear-driven necessity as she glanced about the crumpled interior of the car. The entire vehicle had twisted inward, creating a cocoon of sorts around her. The damage left her feeling claustrophobic, making her skin crawl and her breathing come out in pants.

Fighting down her panic, she slammed her fist against the radio hoping to silence the Christmas tune. As the song cut off, she took a moment to look for her belongings.

Her purse was nowhere in sight, but her backpack rested only inches from her head on the now shattered window. She reached down to pop open her seatbelt, and did a quick search for her missing purse and phone. The fact that the passenger side window was completely gone didn't give her much hope she'd find either of them.

With the restraint now gone, her body slumped more heavily against the door, the armrest digging painfully into her side. The shift in her weight caused the car to groan, which in turn kicked up her own heartbeat. Sudden images of exploding cars, or even worse in her mind, tumbling farther down the hill had Sara awkwardly slipping on the backpack and shifting so her bottom rested on the driver's side window.

Thankful and slightly incredulous that she'd managed only a few scrapes and bruises, she carefully gained her feet. Again, the car moaned in protest. She stood, feet resting on the shattered window, her head nearly butting up against the passenger side door. Above her she could barely make out the stark, bare, branches of the nearby trees. The windshield's safety glass had crazed, making it impossible for her to see much in that direction.

More than ready to get free, Sara placed her foot on the steering wheel and boosted herself up. Continuing her climb, using the seats as a ladder, she finally came to a stop at the passenger door. Simultaneously she pulled the handle and put her shoulder to the door, pushing up with all she had.

As it began to ease open, Sara shifted her footing to gain more advantage. Still pushing with all her might, she ignored the creaking and groaning the car was now doing. Continuing to push and climb, she finally managed to wedge her body between the car frame and the door.

At last she'd worked herself out of the vehicle and onto the side panel of the car. Only then did she take a moment to get her bearings.

As soon as she did she wished she hadn't.

The three trees that had worked as a net to catch the Taurus were mature, two having caught the front half of the car and the third, supporting the rear.

A glance up the embankment showed she'd rolled probably a good 300 feet or more from the highway. Not so bad considering the car had managed to come to rest against the only stand of trees she could see. If she'd come down at a different angle, or worse in a different location, she would have undoubtedly continued down the hill, gathering momentum as she went.

Near as Sara could see, she would have most likely continued rolling another 600 feet into the empty field below. There she probably would have remained in a jumble of twisted metal until next spring, when the farmer that owned the property would stumble across her.

Ready to get off the groaning vehicle, Sara began to slide backward and down the roof of the car, the rental's roof rack making her scramble to safety fairly easy. Once on the ground, she dropped to her knees in the damp earth, exhaustion and gratitude rendering her immobile for a moment.

It was as she sat, still trying to figure out exactly what had happened that she noticed something shining in the late afternoon sun. With a groan, her bruised and battered muscles making themselves known, she eased closer to the wreck.

There, lying just before the driver's side rear tire was her cell phone. Afraid to get her hopes up, she scrambled down the slope to retrieve the tiny silver phone. At the rear of the vehicle, she pulled up short, glancing from the phone, to the car, to the trees.

Now that she really looked, she could clearly see where the tree that supported the rear of the rental had been damaged in the fall. Nearly cracked in half, it looked as if it wouldn't take much to let go. It only proved just how lucky Sara had been. It also meant in order to grab the phone she was going to have to put herself in the path of the car.

Determined to move faster than she ever had in her life, Sara eased as close to the car's bumper as possible and dug in her toes. With a push, she darted forward, now in the shadow of the car's chassis, and bent low to scoop up the cell. Her hand had just closed over the tiny piece of plastic when there was a sudden gust of wind.

The blast hit the car with a force that caused the metal to scream in protest as it was tipped forward. The pressure increased on the already damaged tree, causing the maple to snap with an audible pop.

As Sara threw herself out of the way of the twisted pile of metal that had once been her car, she could hear the familiar refrain of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas playing loud and clear.

888

"Dude, Mapquest it again, something's gotta be off."

Sam groaned at the sound of his brother's voice. The older man stood in the doorway with Jack planted firmly at his side. Both dog and Dean had been haunting the office for the last forty minutes and though Sam could appreciate their worry, he was also fairly certain they were blowing things out of proportion. "I told you, man, it's a five hour trip. She's only forty-five minutes late. I'm sure she just hit some traffic."

His words seemed to have the desired effect. Dean drew in a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right, she's not that late."

"She'll be here."

"Right," Dean agreed as he turned and left the office.

Sam returned his focus to the screen before him. Every five minutes for the last forty-five minutes, Dean, with the ever present Jack, would stride in demanding to look at the route Sara was taking. Though he could understand his brother's concern, given the traffic she had to drive through, forty-five minutes really didn't constitute late.

Fingers poised over the keys, he was about to resume typing when Dean suddenly popped his head back inside the office. "We could get the Lojack turned on in her car…I mean that way I could see for myself where she was."

The younger Winchester rolled his eyes at the suggestion. More than once he'd been a spectator in a Sara and Dean dust-up over what she perceived as his brother's overbearing attitude. He could only imagine just how much she'd resent having the tracking system on her car turned on.

"Dean…" Sam moaned.

"I know, I know what you're gonna say, Sam, but something's wrong."

"What could possibly be wrong?"

Sam's statement was met with silence and a glare, before Dean ground out, "We're talking about Sara, she's a friggin' magnet for trouble."

At Sam's challenging stare, Dean went on, "Peruvian Vampire Fairy? Need I say more?"

As much as Sam hated to admit it, the older hunter was right. Only Sara could manage to not only cross paths with an energy-sucking vampire, but also invite it over for dinner. If anyone was going to find trouble on an innocuous highway…"It's gonna take time, I don't even know what rental company she used."

"Thanks," Dean breathed as he dropped onto the chair next to Sam's.

"No thanks needed, just make sure you leave me out of it when she flips out cause you were stepping on her toes."

"At this point I'd be happy to take the reaming. Go into her favorites, her credit card company's listed there, we should be able to find what company she used through that."

Sam leaned over the keyboard and started his search. It was only a minute before he felt Dean's hot breath on his neck. Without looking, he drove his elbow back and into his brother's stomach. Dean's whoosh of air was more than satisfying. "Back off."

"What you can't share your toy?" Dean snapped, "You know you fill her hard drive up with porn and she's gonna raise the roof."

With a roll of his eyes, Sam refrained from dignifying his brother's reply with an answer. "You know her password?"

Dean blew out a breath and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'don't blow a gasket' before he reached past Sam and opened the center desk drawer.

There, taped to the bottom of the drawer, was a listing of what looked like usernames and passwords. Sam stared hard at the list before turning toward his brother and gesturing at the neatly done list.

His brother held up both hands as if to ward him off and said, "I told her, but she insists that she can't remember them all."

Sam quickly scanned the list until he came to the one he needed and re-focused his attention on the screen before him. "Hasn't she ever heard of identity theft?"

With a snort, Dean replied, "Trust me, I think Sara of all people gets the perils of identity theft."

"Okay, security question, what street was her first house on?" Sam asked absently, his mind already churning out the possible ways to bypass the system's security."

"Woods," Dean replied promptly.

Sam turned a surprised eye toward his brother. "Woods? How do you know that?"

Dean rolled his eye and admitted, "You know that porn name game?"

At Sam's blank look, Dean continued with a put-upon sigh, "You know, the one where you take your first pet's name, add it to the first street you ever lived on and you get what your name would be if you were a porn star?"

"Okay…" Sam drew out still having no clue what his brother was referring to.

"Well, anyway hers would be Kitty Woods, so the name of the first street she ever lived on was Woods."

"You two are so made for each other," Sam groaned as he returned his attention to the screen at hand. "'kay, it looks as if she was at the Hertz rental desk in Richmond, Virginia this morning at ten a.m."

"Got a number?" Dean asked as he snapped open his cell phone.

Sam quickly rattled off the digits, then leaned back to listen to the tall tale his brother was about to work. If there had been a signal to find, having the phone's GPS turned on would have been much easier. With the Lojack system, it was going to be ten times harder to convince the manufacturer to activate the system.

"Hello, I need to speak with your manager in regard to a possible theft."

888

Stomach churning with worry, Dean silently urged the manager to the phone. His every instinct screamed that he needed to hurry. Sara was many things, overconfident and stubborn to name two, but, she'd never been hurtful. Even though she worked hard to maintain her independence, she would never brush off others concern for her. She had said she'd call if she was going to be late and she hadn't, in Dean's book that equaled trouble.

"Hello, may I help you?"

The soft drawl drew Dean's attention back to the problem at hand. "Yes, I'm Officer Geddy with Richmond P.D. We're investigating a string of identity theft crimes and we have reason to believe you were targeted early this morning. Who am I speaking with?"

"I'm the manager Brad Stephens. You think someone stole one of our cars?"

Dean shot a smirk at his brother's eye roll as he continued to weave his tale. "I'm afraid so, Brad, what I need to know is if you rented a car to a woman roughly ten am this morning. She would have been tall, about 5' 8", blue eyes, light brown hair, might have claimed to be heading north?"

"Wait just a second," the manager replied as he then held a hushed conversation with someone in the background.

A second later, the man was back on the line. "Actually, we rented a 2001 Ford Taurus license plate XYG-7734 to a Sara Powers around ten o'clock this morning."

"Could you fax me the vin information for that vehicle," Dean asked the rental agent as he nodded toward Sam to flip on Sara's fax machine. "Number's five, five, five, four, three, five, six, eight, four, seven.

"Certainly, sir. Do I need to report this to headquarters," the agent asked just as the sleek black fax machine on Sara's desk began to ring.

A thumb's up from Sam let him know they had the information they needed. "Actually, I'm looking over the information now and it seems everything's in the clear. Our perp must have used a different agency. I appreciate your help though."

"Oh, well, good," the manager replied a bit dejectedly.

Dean couldn't help but find it funny, the man almost seemed disappointed Sara wasn't a criminal. "Thank you for your help."

As he snapped the phone shut, Sam spoke up, "Why didn't you have them activate the tracking system?"

With a gesture toward the computer, Dean explained, "If I say the car's stolen that implicates Sara, even if there's no basis for it, it's a hassle we don't need. Can you get me the number for Lojack?"

"What now? Lojack is not gonna want to turn the tracker on without a damn good reason," Sam asked as he pulled up the number.

Dean began dialing. "Now? We give them a reason."

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Brad Stephens from Hertz Rentals, Richmond International Airport," Dean began.

"Hey, Brad, what can I do for you?"

"Well, seems as if we've managed to loose a car."

"Another one?" the female voice on the other line asked.

Surprised, Dean went with it, "Yeah, you believe it, I'm gonna end up with my ass in a sling."

With a high-pitched giggle, the voice agreed, "I'd think so. That's three this week. We're gonna have to start charging you. Okay, give me the vin."

With a shrug for his brother's inquiring stare, Dean rattled off the vehicle identification number.

"Got it," the woman sang out after a few moments pause. "Looks like it's in Pennsylvania. You ready for the access number?"

Miming a writing gesture at his brother, Dean urged her to continue, "Yeah, ready."

"Four, two, seven, nine, three, two, you got it?"

As he repeated the numbers back to the woman, Sam copied them down. Within seconds, his brother had entered the access number into the Lojack site.

"Thanks for your help. I appreciate it," the hunter said as he tried to see past Sam's shaggy head to the map on the monitor.

"No problem at all, bye now."

Without responding, Dean snapped the cell phone shut and nudged the other man aside. "You got her?"

"Yup," Sam replied as he adjusted the map before him. "Told you she was fine, she's only an hour out. In Schubert, right on route seventy-eight, like she should be."

Despite being faced with the proof he had craved, Dean still found himself unable to relax. "I don't get it, why'd it take her so long?"

"Traffic, an accident, a wrong turn, you know how it is, Dean."

With a nod, Dean continued to study the dot on the screen before him. "yeah," he answered absently.

"Well, now you know you can start heating up dinner for her, I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

"It's not moving."

His brother turned to stare at him in confusion. "What's not moving?"

Unease growing by leaps and bounds, Dean pointed a single finger at the red dot that indicated Sara's car. "The damn dot, it's not moving, Sam."

For one long moment, the younger man sat staring open-mouthed at the screen before him.

"Sam!"

Whether it was Dean's shout or simply coincidental, Sam jumped and clicked on the mouse before him. "Damn, the refresh."

Unable to speak, Dean watched the tiny dot that represented his whole life flicker out.

"The computer's not an actual GPS, you have to refresh the screen manually," Sam explained.

However, Dean had seen enough. Before the screen had fully opened, he was gone from the office, his long stride eating up hallway in seconds. Ignoring the faint sound of his brother's foul curse, he headed straight for the room he shared with Sam and began packing his gear as quick as he could.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

888

Finding herself once again the butt of some cosmic joke, Sara blew out a breath and forced her eyes open.

A half-hour ago, the widow's biggest worry had been whether or not Dean would notice the seemingly permanent frown line that had taken up residence between her eyes. Ready to blame this latest wrinkle on Michael's last, less than stellar, school report, rather than on her age, she'd been contemplating the best possible lighting scenarios for a bedroom rendezvous when her car had developed a mind of its own.

Obviously determined to take up a life-long dream of cliff diving, the rental had thrown itself willy-nilly thru the guardrail, plummeting them both down the embankment. Having survived this new version of extreme sports, Sara had then managed to crawl uninjured to safety.

With a rare bit of luck, which should have been her first clue something was wrong, she'd managed to locate her cell phone. Given the fact that she'd just rolled her way down a mountainside with nary a scratch, she'd assumed grabbing said phone would be a breeze. Cue clue number two.

You would think by now she'd have learned nothing in her life ever came easy.

She seriously should have known better than to tempt fate by going for that phone. If she died on this mountainside, and really given her current predicament it was looking more and more likely, Dean was so gonna tell her 'I told you so'.

Recognizing her wandering thoughts as a sign of shock, Sara forced herself upright. As she moved pain shot up her leg, causing her to gasp. With one hand hovering over her knee, she held herself as still as she could while she waited for the throbbing ache to pass.

Slowly but surely she breathed through the pain. Finally the agony began to lessen, allowing her to take note of her other discomforts. Second to only the pain in her leg was the cold that was quickly seeping into her body. The sweater she'd grabbed earlier that morning, while adequate for a plane ride, gave her no protection from the elements.

"I can't believe the figgin' car rolled over my damn leg," she breathed as she gingerly prodded the knob that pressed against the skin just below her knee. She was no doctor, but, she was pretty sure that knot hadn't been there before the car had begun rolling, catching her limb underneath one tire.

At least she could take comfort in the fact that it wasn't life threatening. The loamy soil had cushioned the blow enough that the bone hadn't even broken skin. Then again, what's the difference between dying of exposure, versus dying of a bone infection. Either way dead was dead.

Despair began to creep in as she glanced around the deserted mountainside. The car had rolled over her and then had continued its descent, mowing down all the local fauna in it's path. She wasn't sure just how far it had ended up but given the steepness of the terrain it might as well have been on mars. There was no way she'd be able to work her way down to it.

Sitting around waiting for rescue wasn't going to work either. Given the isolated area and the distance she'd fallen, there was no way anyone would realize she was even here. That left the Winchesters as her only hope.

As far as hope went, betting on the brothers was a pretty sure thing. The only snag in the plan was the fact that she wasn't even due home for at least another hour. It would be another thirty minutes before Dean finally convinced Sam that something was wrong. Add in the hour it would take the boys to find her and she was up to nearly three hours until the cavalry arrived.

Three hours, she could do that.

A glance about the darkening valley had her prioritizing. First, she couldn't stay where she was without some kind of shelter from the elements. That meant she needed to move. In order to do that she needed to splint her leg.

The only thing she'd retained from the rental had been her backpack. Though it contained nothing of real help, she was pretty sure she could remove the straps and use them to immobilize her leg. All she needed was two sturdy branches to work with.

Stranded only five feet from the now destroyed tree, she began crawling toward the shattered tree, dragging her leg behind her. Every movement sent pain searing through the limb. Several times, she needed to stop in order to retain consciousness.

Given the dim light, she hadn't realized just how close she was to the accident site until she began to feel bits of debris under her hands as she clawed her way across the ground. Using touch, she picked up and discarded stick after stick in search of something solid enough to work as a brace.

At last, she had two branches nearly equal in length and thickness. Glad to have an excuse to stop moving she flipped onto her back and drug off the backpack she'd been wearing. As she began to pick apart the seams that held the straps on, she allowed her thoughts to wander.

It had gotten too dark to see her watch, but that didn't stop her from trying to guess just where Dean might be at this moment. In her mind's eye, she could clearly see him back at the house, wearing a path up and down the long hallway. He would be checking his watch and cursing her stubborn insistence that she was capable of taking care of herself.

With a roll of her eyes, Sara jerked loose the last strap and began binding her leg as best she could. She had little doubt from here on out the hunter would haunt her every step. Then again as she sat on the cold hard ground, tears making tracks down her face as she worked to immobilize her leg, she didn't think she'd protest all that hard.

Unable to hold back the waves of agony for another moment, she lay back with the heels of her hands pressed against her wet eyes.

888

"You know she's gonna kill us if it turns out she just stopped to pee, or got pulled over."

If it wasn't for the fact that his little brother followed up his statement by helping Dean pack, the green-eyed man might have taken a swing at him. For hours now he'd known something was wrong. Known it and ignored it for fear of stepping on the widow's independent toes. It was time he'd wasted and if the tight knot in the pit of his stomach proved to be justified he'd never forgive himself.

If Sam was right and Sara was simply taking a breather, well, he'd just have to find some way to make it up to her, preferably in the privacy of her bedroom.

"You really believe everything's fine, Sam?"

Sam scowled and shook his shaggy head. "If it was anyone besides Sara..."

His brother had a point. Between the Winchesters non-existent luck and the widow's own tendency to fall into trouble, their chances of a happy ending weren't good. "Pick up the pace, we're outta here in five."

Suiting his actions to words, Dean grabbed up the last of his bags and made a beeline for the garage and the Impala. As he exited the house, Jack close by his side, he gazed for one long moment at Sara's Jeep. With its four-wheel drive, the vehicle was undoubtedly better suited for the winter weather they were likely to encounter.

However, leaving the Impala behind just seemed wrong. Given Sara's love for the black beauty it felt like cheating on both of his favorite girls to leave the sixty-seven classic behind. "We're gonna bring her home," Dean assured his baby with a pat on the hood.

While he was stowing his gear in the trunk, Sam emerged from the house carrying his own duffle and the laptop bag.

"It's getting cold out there," the younger hunter stated as he dropped his gear into the trunk.

Dean nodded in agreement as he closed the trunk lid. With the sun setting at five-thirty, the night temperature had dropped quickly. Add in a steady breeze and the air felt downright frigid. "All the more reason to hurry."

He was about to slide into the driver's side seat when a loud 'woof' caught his attention. "Damn, I forgot about Jack."

Sam rested his forearms on the roof of the car and nodded toward the animal. "You wanna call her folks? Her dad would come over and pick him up."

Honestly, the last thing Dean wanted to do was to involve Sara's parents, at least until he had something to tell them. As far as they were concerned, their daughter was fine and would be over to pick the kids up sometime in the afternoon tomorrow. "How about that kid?" Dean suggested even as he realized he had no desire to allow the brat back into Sara's house.

"We could bring him with us."

Dean glanced at the dog with a grimace. As much as he appreciated Jack, that didn't stop the animal from being furry, and slimy, two things the hunter would rather not have in the car.

"You know he's trained to track. If something is wrong, it wouldn't hurt to have him."

Sam's words made the decision for Dean.

With a roll of his eyes, for the serious detailing he knew the car would need after this little adventure, Dean opened up the rear driver's side door and gestured toward the dog. "Let's go."

Jack needed no further encouragement as he quickly scrambled onto the long backseat. Like the well-trained dog he was, he promptly dropped to the leather seat with a contented sigh, his big square head resting on the door as he stared out the window.

Already calculating the time it would take to wipe the nose prints from the glass, Dean climbed in behind the wheel, the feeling of anxiety that had plagued him most of the afternoon easing slightly. Despite the fact that it was all an illusion, he felt more in control now that he was in motion. Right or wrong, at least he was doing something.

888

Sara came to with a start. Unsure for a moment just where she was, she jerked upright. The motion caused the constant ache in her leg to flare-up white and hot. Given the not too subtle reminder, she quickly remembered just where she was and what had happened.

Having fallen asleep, the ever-growing cold had penetrated the heavy cotton weave of her jeans and her hoodie, leaving her shaking in the dark evening air.

"Damn," she whispered, cursing herself for the time she'd wasted. She really hadn't done herself any favors by passing out. The night had only grown darker making it harder and harder for her to see, and then there was the cold, which had grown damper as the night ticked by.

She needed some kind of shelter and heat and she needed them now. As she wrapped her arms about herself and began briskly rubbing the feeling back into her icy limbs, she tried to concentrate on which direction she should try. There was no way she'd be able to go up the hill, the grade was just too steep. Down would also be difficult, plus, it would only take her farther from the roadway. Leaving her with a choice of left or right.

"Right it is," she murmured as she began to feel her way across the ground. She was certain she'd seen a broken branch that would make due as a cane for the moment.

Twice she covered the same area of dirt, her frozen fingers scrabbling through the dead grass, before she finally found the makeshift cane. More than ready to find shelter, she got her good leg under her. Using the branch to pull herself up she gained her feet.

Every bone in her body aching from the cold and her earlier crash, she stumbled forward a step, leaning heavily on the branch.

Focusing on nothing more than moving forward, Sara continued across the frozen hillside in an awkward shuffle. Though the movement caused the pain in her leg to worsen, the exertion served to slightly warm her body. She still shivered, but at least she was focusing more clearly.

Sara had been moving for a while when the terrain grew rockier. Large outcropping of boulders began to pop up in her path, causing her to lose precious time and energy moving around them.

As she moved, she began to notice that the night grew lighter. The moon, which was beginning its ascent, was full and bright casting a grey light over the hillside. Sara was scrambling over a low outcropping of rock when she saw a man-made wooden overhang. Having seen similar structures before, she recognized it as an old mine entrance.

Equal measures of hope and trepidation surged through her, as she considered the abandoned opening. Its dark, yawning, opening put her in mind of a mouth, ready to swallow whatever or whomever crossed the threshold.

"Shit." Every lecture she'd ever given her children, in regard to the dangers of caves, ran through her mind as she made her way over the debris strewn ground. A glance toward the moon that hung heavy in the sky convinced her that she was doing the right thing.

With the damp air and the pale ring of light that encircled the moon, she was certain snow was in the near forecast. Without some kind of shelter, she'd never last long enough to hear Dean's 'I told you so'.

Girding her courage, she stepped under the overhang and approached the partially boarded up entrance.

888

"Pull over, Dean," Sam ordered as he pulled his gaze from his laptop and studied the area.

Earlier, much to his brother's irritation, the younger hunter had had him go past the mile marker heading west only to go onto the next exit off the highway. They'd then gotten right back on now heading east

Re-tracing the path the widow had taken, Sam silently cursed as they approached the spot where the Taurus should have been.

"She's not here, Sam," Dean growled as he jerked the car onto the roomy shoulder.

Understanding his brother's impatience but unable to conjure the widow out of thin air, Sam tried to ease the other man's anxiety. "It's too dark to see anything from here. Let's just get the flashlights and have a look."

For one single moment, Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel and his eyes slipped shut.

Sam reached out one hesitant hand, intending to offer his brother some comfort, when the A/C D/C song that had been softly playing in the background broke up. As the opening strains of 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' began to drift across the small space, a shiver ran down his spine.

Dean's eye popped open and his hand automatically drifted toward the radio. "What the hell, Sam, you trying to torture me?"

Before his brother could switch off the sound, Sam stopped him, "Dean I didn't touch the radio and you were listening to a cassette."

"...From now on our troubles will be miles away..."

Dean stared at the radio for one long moment before he was on the move. Tearing the keys from the ignition he was out of the car in a flash and heading toward the trunk. Sam gave the still playing stereo a last look before he climbed out hot on his brother's heals.

"What about Jack?" Dean asked as he flung up the car's trunk.

Sam met him at the back of the car, accepting the light that was tossed his way. "Couldn't hurt to bring him. He might pick up something we miss."

His brother hesitated for one moment before at last nodding. "Fine, but we can't have anything happen to him. She'd never forgive me."

Considering how over-protective Sara was of the bundle of fur that was even now barking to be let out of the car, Sam couldn't blame his brother for wanting to keep the animal safe. "We'll put him on a leash, that way he'll stay close."

As Dean slammed the trunk closed he agreed, "Good, you take him. I wanna keep my hands free."

Without argument, Sam moved to get the dog out of the car. Jack, who up to know had been the model of perfection, was now clawing at the window to get out. As he opened the rear door, one hundred and eighty pounds of slobbering dog shoved against him with a snarling growl. Unable to keep his footing, the shaggy-haired man went down, hitting the ground hard.

Jack kept right on going, his solid frame hitting the icy ground with a thud. Ignoring Dean's shouted command to stay, the dog put his nose to the ground and ran the length of the guardrail. Before Sam could gain his feet, the dog darted through an opening in the railing and was gone from sight.

"Shit," Dean cursed as he took off after the dog.

Up on his feet at last, Sam took up the rear praying that the break in the protective rail didn't signify what he thought it might.

888

Sara hesitated in front of the opening. It was obvious over the years that someone or something had broken down the boards that had once covered the shaft opening. Whether it was someone seeking shelter or just kids using the place as a gathering point, they'd made it easy for Sara to duck into the tunnel.

Once inside, with her back to the opening, she found she could go no farther. Only a hint of the moonlight that had guided her so well outside shone through the decaying boards allowing her to make out only the first five feet or so.

Feeling like a coward, but fully able to live with her weakness, Sara put her back to the stone wall and carefully sank to the ground. The dank smell wafting out of the deep darkness had her breathing through her mouth as images of toxic gases wafting her way, upped her heartbeat.

"Hurry, Dean," she breathed as she gathered the tattered remains of her backpack to her chest.

Saying his name out loud, gave her a boost of courage as she imagined just what it would do to the hunter to discover her lifeless body in some long forgotten cave. The idea of what lurked in the darkness also helped renew her weary body. She had no desire to fall asleep, leaving herself open to attack from whatever wild creatures she now shared the space with.

Though she'd gotten out of the wind, shelter was only part of the plan. A fire would help not only to keep her from freezing to death as the weather grew colder, but would also keep her from becoming bear-chow.

Digging into what remained of her backpack she began to search for supplies. "Fire and fuel first," she decided. There would be little point to gathering wood if she didn't find something to light it with. In theory, she knew how to make a fire-bow, in reality she knew it would be near impossible for her to light a fire that way.

A better bet would be the set of matches she'd snagged from the pub she'd eaten dinner at the night before. Unable to pass up the tiny pack proclaiming, "I caught Crab's at Carmen's" she knew she'd thrown the tiny square into either her purse or her pack.

Now, as she thrust her arm deep into the bag, pushing aside the folder that held her currant manuscript, she prayed the matches were there. At last, she had to face up to the fact that they weren't there. Cold, tired, and hurting, she rubbed an aching hand across her eyes. "Damn."

Discouraged and feeling pretty pitiful, she drug the tangled i-pod out of her bag. As she worked to untangle the lines, she tucked the tiny ear buds into her ears and turned it on.

"...Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore..."

With a cry, Sara tossed the player away from her. "No...no...no...no," she chanted as hugged herself. Earlier, when in the midst of trying to stay alive she'd discounted the song as nothing more than a bad coincidence. Now given the fact that she'd been the one to load the music onto her i-pod she could no longer pretend nothing was wrong.

The interference on the radio, her failing brakes, and even the gusts of wind that had countered each of her movements could no longer be ignored.

"...Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us, once more..."

With another jump, Sara's gaze darted toward the shiny silver player that lay where she'd thrown it. A faint glow came from the display, and the sound could be heard clearly through the abandoned ear buds, despite the fact that the i-pod's batteries lay where they'd fallen out, inches beyond the unit.

Shuddering in fear, she used her good leg to smash the tiny player into complete silence. Once done she could still clearly make out the two batteries, their copper tops shining in a patch of moonlight. With a shaky hand, she reached out and picked up the tiny cylinders a plan forming in mind.

If she was right, and she was sure she was, something was lurking in the quiet Pennsylvania countryside, something that had already tried to killer her, and would most likely come for her again. While acknowledging that fact made her feel no better, the idea of greeting the villain in the light of a roaring fire did somewhat ease her fear.

Withdrawing the pages of her newest manuscript, she couldn't help but feel a pang as she began ripping sheets into shreds. Once she'd created a significant pile, she pulled off one of her sneakers. Using a sharp stick, she began to pick at the inside of the shoe, until the thin metal strip that held the insole in shape came free.

As she slipped the shoe back onto her foot, she couldn't help but be thankful for the pages and pages of useless knowledge she had acquired over the course of her writing career.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

Dean threw himself through the broken guardrail without thought as he worked to grab Jack. He had no idea what had set the animal off, but he couldn't imagine it was good. While the big beast had a habit of picking and choosing which of Sam's commands to follow, he'd never before ignored an order from the older hunter.

He was only a step or two through the opening, when he suddenly found himself stepping into nothing. In the split second before he began to tumble down the incline he saw Jack, his white fur gleaming in the moonlight, as he worked his way nimbly down the hillside.

It was an unfortunate fact that Dean had fallen enough times in his life to know tensing up did you know good, loose and relaxed was the only way to fall. As he tumbled, hitting every rock in Pennsylvania, he silently cursed nature and the great outdoors. Tumbling down a staircase may do more damage but at least you could always count on the floor to stop you eventually.

Here in no man's land his only hope would be a change in the grade, or else the timely appearance of a tree.

"Ugh," Dean groaned in pain as his descent came to a sudden painful halt.

As he lay in the darkness and worked to catch his breath, the trunk of a tree permanently imprinted on his side, he could have sworn he heard a grunting sound. With images of bears and mountain lions dancing in his head, he reached behind his back in hopes that his colt had made the trip with him.

He was just beginning to process the fact that the weapon was gone, when something hard and heavy slammed into his side.

Despite the fact that he'd spent only fifteen minutes in the night air, Dean found himself already hating the damp ground he lay upon, the stupid tree he'd rammed into, and most of all the size fourteen boot that was now firmly lodged in his solar plexus.

"Get off, Sasquatch," he growled as soon as he was able to catch his breath. Shoving at the long leg that had him pinned to the cold earth, he drew comfort from the fact that he wasn't the only Winchester stupid enough to take a header down the steep hill.

"Dean?" Sam groaned as he drew back his legs and began to push himself upright.

With a roll of his eyes at his brother's questioning tone, Dean heaved himself to his feet. "You were expecting someone else?"

His younger brother stood, leaning forward, hands on his knees, and swaying slightly. "Huh? No, I'm just...dizzy."

Given the darkness, he was unable to see the color of his sibling's face. However, knowing Sam's tendency to get motion sick on even the kiddie rides, he had little doubt it was a lovely shade of green. "If you're gonna blow chunks do it somewhere else," Dean decreed absently as he dug into his jacket in search of his flashlight.

As expected, his words caused the younger hunter to retch once before he managed to gain control of his nausea. Dean fished out the light then hesitated with his finger on the switch. He'd taken quite a tumble and the flashlight had taken the brunt of the abuse. The chances that it still worked were slim.

Without it would mean a long trek back up to the Impala to retrieve another. It was bad enough he was down here with a weapon, without light he'd be useless to Sara. Finally, unable to delay any longer he flicked on the switch.

Much to his surprise the light glowed bright despite the crack he noticed in the glass. "You still got yours?" he asked his sibling, aiming the beam in Sam's direction.

Sam squinted slightly in the sudden bright light and began patting down his pockets. "I managed to hang onto it, gun's gone though."

"Yeah, me too." Casting the light about the area, Dean noted that Jack was long gone. "That's not all that's gone either...Damn dog took off."

A sudden flare of light had Dean's hopes lifting slightly. He turned toward his brother and gestured with his light toward the tree he'd come up against. "You see this?"

"Shit," Sam sighed as he joined his beam with his brothers.

"That was pretty much my thought," Dean ground out. As his gaze moved over the copse of trees they'd landed in his stomach grew more and more nauseas. Unfortunately, for him, it wasn't due to dizziness or any physical ailment and all to do with the devastation of the surrounding area. Something big had landed in this same place leaving a swath of destruction that seemed to continue on down the steep hill.

"Sara," Dean breathed as he shone his light down the hill, in a vain attempt to locate the car that had obviously gone off the roadway.

888

"Come on," Sara breathed as she forced her cold stiffened fingers to obey. She'd already shredded a nice neat pile made up of her manuscript pages and she'd gathered a bit of kindling from the surrounding floor.

She knew once she got the fire lit she'd have to find some more sizable pieces but the thought of wandering blindly through the cavern had her hesitating. For now, she figured she'd get a nice little flame going and then she'd worry about exploring her new digs.

Ready at last Sara picked up her two batteries.

Holding one with the negative end toward her, she then placed the other with the positive end facing her kindling. She allowed the two ends to touch, forming one long cylinder in her hand. Next, she took the slim strip of metal she'd dug out of her shoe and placed one end of it against the negative end of the battery that faced her. Taking the other end, she then touched it to the positive side of the second battery.

As expected a host of sparks flew from the end, causing the paper to smolder. With bated breath she watched a faint line of red eat its way up the page. Then, just like that, a tiny flame flickered to life. Hotter and hotter it burned as it worked its way through the paper, dry leaves, and wood debris.

"Yes!" she crowed, so overcome with pride at her achievement that for a moment she could do no more than hover over the tiny flame soaking up it's bright glow.

As she watched it grow, she began to scout the ground around her looking for larger pieces of wood. Luckily for her most of the boards that had been used to barricade the door were laid out with-in reach.

Content in the moment to be doing something productive, Sara was able to push away the pain in her leg. She was uncertain just how much time had passed since she'd taken her little un-planned detour, but she had hopes the brothers were on their way now.

At last, the fire burned bright and she'd snagged every last bit of wood off the surrounding dirt floor. With a sigh, she straightened and allowed her gaze to wander the now lit cavern. As pleased as she was to no longer be stuck in the dark, the view the light had given her wasn't much of an improvement.

The walls near the opening were timbers, rotted and broken in places they seemed too insubstantial to hold up the wooden ceiling. Roughly four feet into the cavern the timbers were replaced by walls of dirt and rock as the tunnel made its way into the mountainside. It was the black gaping hole of the passageway that captured and held her attention. Knowing that anything could be using the mine as a burrow, she found herself unable to take her eyes off it. The idea of falling asleep only to reawaken and find herself spooning with Winnie the Pooh was enough to keep her eyes open despite the gnawing pull of exhaustion.

It took nearly twenty minutes and quite a bit of the wood she could find easily before she began to finally began to thaw. The feel of the cold hard ground beneath her back and butt did nothing to speed the process. If it wasn't for her leg, and the half-assed splint she'd concocted she could have easily worked on warming both sides of her body. Reminding herself once again that things could always be worse, Sara leaned back against the rough wooden wall and stared into the bright flame of the fire.

888

Sam hated nature.

The bushes that tried their best to snag his clothes and skin.

The branches that always seemed to hang just low enough to close line him if he wasn't paying attention.

The roots and rocks that lay about waiting to trip him up. Overall, he would have given just about anything to be anywhere else at that moment.

An abandoned house on the edge of town, a city street, or even the well-manicured lawn of some possessed banker would be preferable to where he was now.

The large lump that had taken up residence in his throat the moment he'd realized that Sara was in trouble wasn't helping things either. He knew his brother would be looking to him for reassurance, but as Sam picked his way down the mountain, his flashlight highlighting the swath of destruction Sara's car had wrought, he found himself at a lost as to how he was supposed to be optimistic.

Even from here, yards above the hulking wreck, he could see that things weren't good. Near as they could figure, the car had slammed through the guardrail, had rolled to a stop at the first outcropping of trees, and then had apparently kept going down the slope.

"Dean..." Sam started only to find himself at a loss for how to go on.

"I see it, Sam," his brother replied.

Unable to do much else, Sam moved to his side as they approached the wreck. He suddenly found himself transported back in time to the last time he'd heard his brother's voice so devoid of emotion. It had been the day Dean, in a misguided attempt to keep Sara and her family safe, had left the Powers family. The subsequent months had been nearly as torturous for Sam as they had for his older sibling.

With no clue how to fix his brother's broken heart, he'd settled for simply trying to hold the older man together. Now, facing a situation where Dean's new life teetered on its side, a mass of tangled metal and crushed glass, he found himself wondering if this time he would be able to succeed, or if the permanent loss of Sara would destroy the hunter.

Frozen by the magnitude of the wreck, Sam could do little but stare as Dean, undaunted, or at least trying to appear that way, strode forward and began to assess the damage.

"Ah, no, Sara."

Sam flinched as he heard his brother's muttered plead. The older man then began to hoist himself up on the twisted wreckage. It was a slow process as he worked to avoid the jagged edges of the metal frame.

"Careful, Dean," Sam implored as he kept his flashlight pinned on the green-eyed man.

"She's not here, Sam," Dean called out, his voice saturated with all the emotion he'd earlier tried to bury. "She must have gotten out. She's not here!"

As much as he wanted the other hunter to be right, Sam knew the chances of Sara climbing out of the wreck after a fall of this magnitude were slim to none. If anything the more likely excuse was she was lying, broken beyond help somewhere in the vicinity. "Dean..."

His brother's jump back to earth was as lighthearted as a little kid. He held up one hand, gesturing for Sam to wait, as he approached. "No, just listen to me. I know what you're going to say but you're wrong. If she was thrown out, don't you think Jack would be here?"

"But-"

"No, no buts. Jack was after something, you and I both know it. The only thing that would have made him disregard a command is Sara. He must have gotten a whiff of her and went to find her."

He had to admit his brother's words rang true. If it were any other dog, he would have been able to tear down Dean's theory. However, when it pertained to the relationship that Sara and Jack had, Sam had to admit there was a chance.

"So where then? I mean if she did somehow get out, and the dogs found her, then why hasn't he come back for us. Or better yet, why can't we hear them. She couldn't have gone far after surviving that wreck."

Reality caused Dean's little boy grin to falter, but it didn't wipe it off completely. "We're gonna have to split up. We'll start combing the area until we find them."

"Should we call in the cops?" Sam asked, he would have but given his brother's record, they'd be risking a lot to have the place swarming with state and local police.

"And do what, tell 'em we just happened to come across the wreck? Or better yet, we used the Lojack to find her?"

"We could come up with something."

Sam watched as his brother simultaneously dropped the hand that held his light, aiming its beam toward the ground, and allowed his head to dip forward. As the shorter man became just another shadow in a forest full of them, Sam waited for the verdict.

At last, Dean looked up, drew in a deep breath, and said, "Something's wrong. I can't describe it, but I know, like I knew before with...Greg. We bring people into this and someone could get hurt. Least if it's just you and I, we can handle ourselves."

Sensing the tension in his brother's form, Sam knew Dean did not come into this decision lightly. If he was wrong, he risked Sara's life, if however he was right, and there was something more sinister at work, as evidenced by the Impala's radio, then bringing in a search part would put a handful of lives at risk. Not envying his brother the decision, Sam threw his support behind the older hunter. "Okay, then, how do you want to work this?"

At his words, Dean seemed to relax slightly. With a decisive nod he stated, "You're going back up to the car for weapons, I'll start the search from here."

"Noooo..." Sam stated flatly, shaking his head for emphasis. If there is something out here, I'm not leaving you alone. We either both go after the weapons or we just risk it and start searching."

"Saaaammm..." Dean drawled.

"I won't do it," Sam stated hating the somewhat petulant sound of his own voice. Crossing his arms for effect, he then worked his height to his advantage by looming over the shorter hunter..

"Ugh," Sam grunted as a sudden pain in his stomach caused him to hunch over. In his small bid for power, he hadn't anticipated on Dean's hand, quick as a flash to catch him hard in the stomach.

"Damn, Dean," he gasped once he'd caught his breath.

Every inch the older brother, Dean shrugged and said, "You might intimidate some, Sammy, but just remember I was the one playing nursemaid you when were still in diapers."

Not ready to concede his point, despite the faint blush that crawled up his neck and poured into his cheeks, Sam tried to recapture a little of his dignity. "We can't split up, and we're wasting time arguing."

With a nod, the older hunter conceded the point. "You're right. Let's have a look-see, and if we have to we'll head back to the car."

Still not liking the plan but unsure of what other choice they had, Sam moved to Dean's side as they began to canvas the forest.

888

Chilled to the bone, Sara curled her body toward the heat she could feel radiating from the body next to her. As warm as the sun on a hot day, she pressed against the contours of Dean's familiar back. "'m cold," she murmured, with her eyes shut tight.

In no rush to face the day, she focused on enjoying the familiar scent and feel of the man in her bed. Normally, he was gone before she awoke. His insistence that the kids not find them in bed together, was both charming and at the same time exasperating. He claimed he didn't want the children to think he was taking their father's place. However, Sara was pretty sure he was just trying to avoid the million and one questions that his presence in her bed would bring.

If the truth be told, Sara was avidly awaiting the day when their cover was blown for the simple reason she loved nothing more than to see her fierce hunter made into a babbling fool by her kids. If his 'birds and the bees' speech was anything at all like his 'do goldfish have souls' lecture then she wanted a front row seat.

For now, though, her only desire was too enjoy the hard, tight, skin beneath her cheek. "I don't ever want to move," she whispered as she felt him shift beneath her. Loving the feel of his muscles shifting under his skin, she withstood the urge to open her eyes. She wasn't sure why, but today was one of those days when she simply did not want to face the morning.

"You feel cold," he responded, as he rolled over onto his back.

His arms wrapped tight around her, his strong hands rubbing lazy circles on her back, he spoke, "I missed you so much. Every day spent without you has been torture."

"We're together now," she growled playfully as she moved her foot up his calve, the crisp hairs on his shin rubbing against her cold feet.

"We'll be together forever," he promised in a rough voice as his arms grew tight around her.

Tension began to seep into Sara's frame as she squeezed her eyes even tighter. "Easy, I'll be here for you, whenever you need me."

The arms that bound her grew even tighter, pushing her face against his chest. A feeling of claustrophobia began to overtake her, even as it became harder to draw breath. "Stop," she gasped, as she tried to break his grip. "You're hurting me, Dean. Stop!"

Just like that she was free. She lay gasping for breath, her eyes still tightly closed, as she tried to work out what had happened. Feeling groggy and muddled she shivered at the sudden mind numbing cold. "Dean?" she whispered, a spasm of pain shooting through her body as she tried to move her leg.

Then reality crashed into her, forcing her back into the here and now. Damp ground lay beneath her cheek, her leg still throbbing though she was careful not to move it. "A dream," she whispered as she worked to catch up. "Just a dream."

Despair crashed into her as she realized her fire had grown even weaker, its heat output nearly nil. Scrambling for the scraps of paper she had left, she then teased the flame back to life, all the while trying to ignore the discomfort that throbbed in her ribs. The feel of phantom Dean's arms still lingered leaving her even colder.

Unable to deal one more second, Sara began to sob. Tears rolled down her gritty cheeks and dripped off her wobbling chin. She was in pain, cold and hungry. She wanted nothing more than to be transported back into her dream world, only now the phantom feel of arms wrapped like bands of steel had stolen even that from her.

It was at that point, when she was at her lowest that she heard a snuffling sound from outside the opening she'd crawled through. Eyes huge, she stared at the opening and willed this entire nightmare to be over.

Unarmed except for a few scattered rocks that lay on the ground around her, she stared at the entry and waited. As she watched two eyes appeared, their shining light the only thing she could see. Well above her own position on the floor, the beast appeared to be huge. Having once stumbled across a black bear while hiking, Sara had little doubt that she was dealing with one now.

Rock held up and at the ready, she prepared to defend herself by any means.

"Woof."

The low easy sound was as familiar as her children's' voices and brought nearly as much pleasure.

"Jack," she cried out, the rocks in her hand forgotten as the big animal battered his way through the broken door.

With a whine of what could only be called glee, the big dog was on her in a flash. Too well mannered to lick her face, he instead butted his head against her chest, all the while growling his happy growl. Moved to tears once more, she fisted her hands in his warm fur and hung on.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Sara felt warm, not lying on a beach in Mexico hot, but warm enough to be content. With Jack's big furry body behind her, and the fire putting off heat once more she felt more comfortable than she had since this ordeal had begun. Apparently exhausted by his trek to find her, the dog had settled down at her side and had promptly fallen asleep. His occasional rumble the only sound to interrupt the silence.

Originally, she'd hoped to send the animal after Dean, but Jack had other ideas. Now that he had found her, he wasn't budging from her side. She found she was okay with that. The feeling of warmth wasn't only due to the body heat the dog produced. Just the idea that she was no longer alone went a long way to lifting her spirits.

Content to wait for her boys' to rescue her, Sara leaned back against the brute. "They'll be here soon," she reassured the animal as she lazily scratched his big blocky head.

Practically purring with contentment, the dog rolled his eyes at her and shifted even closer.

"You're such a soft touch," Sara said with a laugh as she continued to lavish attention on him.

Jack was her dog, and always had been. She'd first chosen the saint bernard for protection, he was to be her last line of defense. Big enough to take a beating and still get up, she'd trained him to protect her family at all costs. Self-sacrificing and braver than she could have imagined, the animal had somehow wormed his way into her heart. Now, rather than a pawn to be used, he was a valued member of her small family.

Ruffling his thick fur, she ignored his doggy breath and continued her one-sided conversation. Somehow, the sound of a voice, even if it was only her own, helped to hold back her fear. "Dean's going to be mad at us you know, don't you dare tell him, but I should have just let him come get me. As it is now, he'll never let me out of his sight again."

Content to drift on her daydreams, it took her a moment to realize that Jack wasn't as relaxed as he had been a few minutes ago. Automatically she looked toward the mine's entrance, certain that Dean and Sam would appear at any moment. At least she was certain until Jack began to growl. The sound was unlike his normal greeting. Instead, the noise rumbled deep in his chest, his lips drawing back to expose his huge incisors.

Now truly afraid, Sara called out, "Dean?"

Before the word had fully left her lips, a gust of wind pounded through the chamber nearly dampening the fire and scattering the decaying leaves and stones that littered the floor. Unable to do much to protect herself, Sara pressed her face against Jack's heaving sigh and waited out the storm. The dog rose to a half-crouch, still offering Sara the shelter of his thick coat, even as he began snapping and barking at the gale force wind that was tearing about the chamber.

Then as quickly as it had sprung up it faltered and died out altogether.

The subsequent silence seemed almost loud to Sara as she tried to calm the now slavering dog. He seemed to take no comfort in the fact that the threat had come and gone. Instead, he pulled from her side, his huge jaws snapping as he turned about in the small space, looking for something to fight.

"Easy, Jack," she whispered even as she worried that maybe the dog was sensing something she wasn't. With her leg the way it was, Sara could do little more than scoot back to lean against the wall of the entry. Eyes open wide she tried to watch in ever direction for whatever the threat might be.

Jack stood, all four feet planted solidly on the ground, his head dipped low, lips drawn back in a snarl. Long strings of saliva dripped from his mouth, as shivers wracked his frame. Gone was the sweet, lovable, overgrown puppy that followed her about the house while she did her chores. In its place was a dog, backed into a corner by fear, and ready to defend itself at all cost.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Jack bolted. Out the cavern's opening he went, his long strides eating up the ground as he disappeared from sight.

Stunned that the dog had left her, Sara only had seconds to ponder before the temperature in the cave dropped. Despite the fire that was still gallantly burning, not even the slightest bit of heat touched her. Instead, she could see her breath, the mist hanging in the air in front of her for long seconds before dissipating.

Certain she was no longer alone, she shrank back against the wall and waited.

888

Dean cursed the bright moon that hung above the fields. With such a moon came shadows, shadows that were impossible to penetrate until you were right on top of them. That made it necessary to seek out every nook and cranny in order to scan it with the flashlight. A time consuming practice left him feeling more and more restless. He and Sam had decided on going right from the wreckage. As the younger Winchester had pointed out, people rarely moved randomly despite what they might think. Instead, they tended to make decisions based on their dominant hand. Sara being right handed would have most likely chosen that direction over any other.

The fact that Sam had read that little tid-bit in one of Sara's books, convinced the brothers that she had definitely gone right. It was only now, an hour after they had started searching that Dean began to doubt their decision. So far they hadn't found so much as a broken branch to indicate Sara had come this way.

With a sigh, Dean pulled up for a moment, his sharp gaze scanning the scarce brush. "You see anything, Sam?"

His brother, who'd been walking roughly ten feet from him, came to a halt and replied, "Nothing, I'm wondering if we're wrong. Or maybe she went up, or even down. Damnit."

He could completely understand his brother's frustration. Without Jack they simply didn't have the means or man power to search out the lost widow. "We're going to have to-"

Dean broke off in mid sentence as he caught sight of a something big and white moving through a patch of brush, farther up the hill. "Jack," he cried as he took off at a dead run.

While he ignored his brother's yells, Dean couldn't help but flashback to the last time he'd taken off hell-bent for leather and ended up falling ass-over-teakettle down the hill. His only comfort this time was he was climbing the hill, lessening his chances off falling off another cliff. Though he had to admit to himself, with Jack as the best and only lead they'd had all night, he'd happily risk another fall if it brought him any closer to Sara.

With these thoughts, Dean caught another glimpse of what he was sure was Jack's white tail. Like a flag, guiding him on, he kept his eyes trained on the spot he'd last seen it. Just then he tripped, landing hard on one knee his flashlight jarred from his grip. On impact, the light went out, leaving Dean to sift over the earth as he tried to locate it once more. "Son-of-a-bitch," he growled as he at last gripped the cylinder.

Not bothering to check if it still worked, he thrust it into his pocket and used the moonlight to guide him. His delay had allowed Sammy time to catch up, he could clearly hear his kid brother's footsteps as he crashed headlong through the clearing.

"You see him," Sam panted as he drew up another couple of steps.

Afraid to admit he'd lost their only lead, Dean ground out a reply, "Just keep going."

Arms pumping, legs straining against the steep grade they moved up, Dean followed his own advice and kept going. Every now and again a flash of white would let him know he was on the right track. He wasn't sure why the dog was keeping his distance, but at this point he really just did not care. Without Jack there was no chance in hell they'd be able to locate the widow.

Then it was Sam's turn to stumble, his long legs getting caught up he hit the ground with a thud and a whoosh of breath. Caught between his desire to find Sara and his leaving his brother behind, Dean slid to a halt. "Sam?"

"Keep going," Sam gasped as he waved his brother on.

Confident that he'd be able to use the cell phone to locate Sam, Dean got moving once more. Farther and farther he went up the hill, until his brother was out of sight. Again and again just when he was certain he'd lost sight of Jack, he'd catch sight of the animal. Too far gone to turn back in defeat, Dean kept on.

888

Sara couldn't recall a time when she'd ever been this scared. That was saying something given her past. However, she rather thought fear was like childbirth. You eventually forgot just how horrible it was, until you experienced it again. Then the new fear drove away all thoughts of what had come in the past. She guessed it was what allowed people to go on, after all, if woman really and truly remembered just what it was to expel a seven pound baby from their bodies, no one would ever be born again.

Feeling justified in her fear, Sara edged a bit closer to the opening. Vague thoughts of crawling out into the night danced about her head only to be discounted. If she was going to die a horrible violent death at the hands of some rabid creature, she'd must rather do it in the dim light of the fire, rather than face down out in the moonlit night.

This time when the wind came, it was neither as strong nor as cold. What it did do was waft over her body as carefully as a lovers touch. "No, no, no, no, no...." she whispered over and over again as she shrank back from its caress.

"I told you we'd be together forever."

The words were no more than a whisper, even as something slid against her face in a gentle caress. Biting back a scream, Sara rolled her eyes in every direction, trying to locate the source of the words.

"My sweet Caroline."

Then he was before her, a man in his early thirties his expression caught somewhere between exaltation and grief. As substantial as his hand against her cheek felt, his form flickered before her eyes.

Confused, and cold to the core, Sara stammered, "What..."

"You've come back to me, I've waited for this day for eternity, and now here you are, flesh and blood once more." With these words, the man leaned forward and ran the palm of his hand from her temple to her chin in one single stroke. "The heat of your skin feels like heaven."

"Cold." Seemingly unable to mutter more than a single word at a time, Sara shrank back from his touch.

As if taking her words as an accusation, the man's withdrew his hand and flickered. When he reappeared, he was across the fire, both hands tucked into his pockets. "Sorry, I can't seem to get warm."

Given the fact that the man was most assuredly a spirit, Sara had little doubt he was having trouble warming up. Despite his harmless appearance, this man was most likely responsible for everything that had occurred. Her brake failure, and subsequent flight over the embankment, not to mention the wind bursts and Jack's gutless retreat. He also apparently thought she was someone named Caroline, a woman whom he very much cared for.

With no weapons to drive him off, and no help on the horizon, Sara decided that her safest bet would be to stall for time. Hopefully, by then, the brother's would have run across her own doggy version of the cowardly lion and would be on their way back. Thankful to have a plan, no matter how stupid it was, Sara straightened her spine, and smiled weakly at the spirit. "It's not you, it's cold in here."

Her words seemed to be the encouragement he needed. Again, he flickered this time reappearing just on the other side of the small blaze. "You're hurt."

Up until that moment, the appearance of the spirit had been enough to block the pain of her broken leg from her mind. With his words the agony came back, slamming into her hard enough to make her eyes water.

"Don't cry," he urged as he closed the distance between them, his hand held up in supplication.

Sara shrank back and tried to think of something that would stop him. She really didn't think she'd be able to retain her tenuous hold on her fear if he touched her once again. However, this time he never made it. One moment he was staring hard at her, a slightly hangdog look about his features and then he let out a snarl.

"Someone's coming."

With no more warning than that, there was another burst of wind and the figure disappeared. Now more afraid for her boys then she was for herself, Sara found herself offering up a prayer for their safety.

888

Sam lay on his back for a moment, drawing in deep breaths as he worked to slow his heartbeat. He was fairly certain he hadn't done any real damage but that didn't stop him from taking a quick inventory of his aches and bruises. At last, confident that he was only sore, he gained his feet and began to follow his brother's trail.

Even in the dark, the older hunter's passage was easily marked. Dean made no effort to go around the patches of vegetation, instead choosing to tear through it leaving a clear path. Sam couldn't help but be thankful for his brother's impatience, it would allow him to catch up all the quicker. Picking up his pace, he stuck to a speed he knew he could maintain forever if necessary, baring any more unexpected tree roots, and concentrated on the trail.

He'd been moving for roughly fifteen minutes, and as far as he could tell drawing no nearer to his brother when something barreled into the back of his legs, causing him to hit the ground with a thump. Certain he'd been hit by at the very least a bear, he was shocked when a warm rough tongue began to lick his face.

"'Gerr off, Jack," Sam protested as he hooked one arm under the dog's wriggling body and pushed him away. With a sound that conveyed his happiness, the dog backed off a bit giving Sam some space to stand. "Thanks, buddy," he said with a groan as he hauled himself to his feet once more.

Giving the dog a quick once over, Sam was glad to see he seemed unharmed. He then straightened and waited, expecting his brother to be close behind. When ten minutes passed and he saw no sign of Dean, he really began to worry. It was quickly becoming obvious that whatever his brother had run after it wasn't Jack. "Damnit, Dean," he breathed as he dug into his pocket and found Jack's leash.

Determined not to end up alone again, Sam clipped the leash to the dog's thick red collar and took up his brother's trail once more.

888

Dean had no one to blame but himself. Problem was though the thought was accurate it did nothing to help his circumstances. He was so completely screwed. The hunter had tracked Jack through the woods, drawing farther and farther ahead of his brother, until he was completely alone in the countryside. Determined not to give up, he'd instead picked up the pace working hard to close the distance between himself and the elusive dog.

Looking back, he now realized his mistake, well one of them. His Jack, the jack that Sara had raised would never have wantonly ignored him. This figment, he'd so easily been duped into following, had been designed to stop him, and as he lay on his back, a sharp stabbing pain in his side, he couldn't help but think of what a fine job it had done.

Now, here he lay, in the bottom of some kind of black pit, of no use to Sara, and needing rescue from his brother. Some days just sucked.

Unable to stall any longer, he rolled, gasping pain as he went. Near as he could tell he'd cracked at least one rib in the fall, and had maybe bruised a few others. It could be worse, he assured himself once he'd ascertained that was the only damage. After all this was twice in one night he'd taken a serious tumble.

With a grimace, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his flashlight. Like before he was hesitant to give it a try, confident that there was no way the light would have survived yet another fall. At last, he was no longer able to hold off. To his surprise, the light came on, though it was now missing its glass lens. "Hot damn," Dean muttered, feeling better already.

Then he shone the light on his surroundings and any lift in his spirits plummeted. He'd somehow managed to crash through an emergency mine exit. The shaft he'd fallen down led straight up from the tunnel, opening up to the night sky. A quick search for the metal ladder that had once provided an exit, showed that the ladder had rusted through in so many places it wouldn't hold a bird's weight let alone his.

"Son-of-a-bitch," he swore as he shone the light left then right.

He knew the area was littered with mines, he also knew there had to be more than one exit. Problem was to go blindly trekking through the maze with nothing more than a flashlight was suicide. As he stood, one hand resting lightly on his hip, the other panning the area with the light, he remembered his phone.

With a snap of his fingers, he dug into his jacket pocket and pulled it free. One glance at the display, made it clear he wouldn't be calling his way out of this mess. Whether it was the area, or the fact that he was underground he didn't know and really didn't care. Without a signal, the damn thing was less than useless.

Left with no choice, Dean set about finding his way out and back to Sara.

**TBC**

**Chapter End Notes:**

Thanks as always for all the wonderful reviews and for those that are simply reading. knowing you guys are out there and enjoying makes this all worthwhile... - Kel ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

888

Dean stood directly beneath the hole he'd fallen through and panned his flashlight around the tunnel. From where he'd landed he had two choices. He could go right, or he could go left. It wasn't much of a choice, but at least it was something. Thanks to the light that filtered through from above, he could use his current location as a starting point. With a confidence born out of desperation, Dean chose the right tunnel.

As he moved down the darkened corridor, he panned his light over the floor. Every time his light struck a loose stone, he would pick it up filling his pockets as he went. At the first junction he came to, he removed a handful of the stones, marked the way he'd come from. He then continued going straight. Tempted as he was to veer off from his path, he resisted. The mine was no doubt a warren of tunnels, a labyrinth in which he could easily lose his way.

In order to avoid taking anymore risk then necessary, he chose to remain with his given direction until he could go no farther. The choice was made easier given the fact that the slope was going steadily upwards. Far as Dean was concerned, higher was better.

Periodically he came across other diverging tunnels but he ignored the temptations and carefully marked each opening with the direction he'd come from. If in the end, he found himself unable to get out, at least, he could find his way back to the opening he'd fallen through.

Left with too much time to consider all the ways this night could continue to go wrong, Dean strove to ignore the damp walls and decaying scent, instead choosing to focus on the past. More specifically the last time he'd seen Sara.

They'd arrived later than expected on Thanksgiving day. In his mad rush to make it back to her, he'd forgotten she always hosted the holiday at her house. As he slipped back into the back door he called over his shoulder, "You can have the shower first, I'm gonna find Sara."

No sooner had he dumped his duffle at the foot of his bed and left the room when a sweet voice called out just as a pair of tiny arms wrapped around his legs in a bear hug. "Dean!"

One glance down at Jessica's smiling upturned face was all it took to wring an answering grin from the tired hunter. "Hey there, miss," he replied as he swung the little girl up and into his arms. Ignoring the streak of chocolate that marred her rosy cheek, he gave her a loud smacking kiss. "How's my girl?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Dean regretted the open-ended question. With her slightly sticky hands placed on either side of his stubbled jaw, she demanded his attention as she proceeded to update him on every single thing that had taken place in the last week.

Gazing into her bright blue eyes, as words tumbled out of her in a jumbled mess, he couldn't help but laugh. He would never understand how it was possible he'd managed to fight untold evil for the better part of his life, but was unable to stop one little girl from running roughshod over him. It was a fact he was fully aware of, he was incapable of disappointing the child. The only good thing about it, was though Jessie seemed well aware of her hold over him, she rarely used it against him.

Sara often reminded him that at some point, his manipulative little bundle of joy was going to use her power for evil and then Dean would regret his easygoing ways. Listening to her run-on about all the ways her brothers had irritated her today, Dean found he really didn't care. He would happily remain ensnared in her tiny web as long as she continued to look at him with such complete and utter faith.

"...and then," Jess said, gasping for air, "Jimmy said-"

"Whoa, little one," a gruff voice interrupted.

A slight frown marred Jessie's face as she frowned over Dean's shoulder. "Uncle Tommy, I was just telling Dean why he needs to have a talkin' with the boys."

Dean jostled Jessie to his hip and held out one hand to Sara's older brother. "Hey, Tom."

Tom warmly shook Dean's hand and then held out his arms. "I told you I'd have a talk with your boys, Jess, why don't you let Dean go say hi to your mom."

Jess' frown grew deeper as she studied her uncle's face. Apparently trusting in the man's ability to straighten out whatever her newest calamity was, she leaned forward, allowing him to take her. "'k, you can yell at them now, and then Dean can yell at them later."

With a wink and a nod toward the kitchen, Tom agreed, "You got it, babe. Sara's in the kitchen, Dean."

Eager to find the brunette, and feeling a little out of place surrounded by her family, Dean headed for the kitchen. He was only a few feet from his goal, when a tiny brunette stepped into his path. "So, you're back."

Congratulating himself on the fact that he didn't just run the older woman down, Dean forced his best grin in place and nodded. "Nice to see you again too, Judy."

Sara's mother-in-law drew one arched brow up and sighed, "I guess it's too much to ask that she keep the guest list to only family on the holidays. Between you, your brother and that Bobby person, I really begin to wonder about that girl's judgment."

Biting back the words he longed to say, Dean just tipped her wink and said, "Always a pleasure, Judy."

Before she could close her gaping mouth and respond, he'd sidestepped her and was on the move once more. Despite how he longed to put the woman in her place, he knew Sara wouldn't appreciate it. Though she really couldn't stand her in-laws, she'd always placed an importance on their role in her kid's lives, as the children's only remaining link to their father, Dean couldn't blame the widow.

That didn't mean he had to suffer the woman's sour attitude longer than absolutely necessary.

At last, he stepped up to the doorway, his gaze automatically searching out Sara's trim form amongst the kitchen full of woman. Despite the holiday, the widow was dressed casually in a tee-shirt and faded jeans. Her shoulder length hair was pulled back into a loose knot and her feet were bare. For one long moment, Dean watched as she flitted about, chatting with her mom and sister-in-law. Looking much too young to have given birth to three kids, she fully caught and held his attention.

As her laugh rang out, clear and full of light, he soaked up the moment to pull out later when he was knee deep in darkness.

Finally, Tom's wife noticed him loitering and with a wink and a grin, she pulled Sara's mom out of the room, leaving the object of his focus on her own. He would have happily remained for the rest of the day, propping up that doorframe, watching her in motion, but at last, she noticed him.

With her hands on her hips, she tossed him a saucy grin and declared, "'bout time you got here, Winchester."

Then before he could reply, she flung herself toward him much as her daughter had done earlier. As his arms closed around her, he finally relaxed. "I missed you," he muttered as he drew her in even closer.

"You're here now," was Sara's only reply before she stretched up on her toes and kissed him long and hard.

Dean reveled in the sensation as her hands drifted toward his face. Cupping his jaw gently she intensified the kiss, causing him to groan in pleasure as he ran his own hands down her back, across her narrow waist and over the flare of her hips. Without a thought for the houseful of people and children, he backed Sara against the fridge, only stopping to lift her against him. The widow eagerly wrapped her legs about his waist and dropped her hands from his face to his chest as she ran her hands beneath his flannel shirt.

So completely lost in each other, neither heard the scuff of footsteps behind them.

"If you two are done rubbing up against one 'nother, you think we could eat?"

Startled, Sara reared back, thumping her head against the refrigerator door. Dean, his face hot with embarrassment, glared over his shoulder at Bobby who stood casually in the doorway, his cap pushed back on his head. With a grin, the old man tipped his face and went on, "You two are starting to steam up the windows."

"Get lost, old man," Dean growled as he shifted slightly, allowing Sara to gain her feet once more.

The widow tried to move away, but the hunter held fast, keeping her close until he was sure they were alone. "Sorry," he apologized as he rubbed his knuckles against her now rosy cheeks. "Got a little carried away."

Sara brushed one hand lightly against his cheek, tracing the shadows he knew lingered beneath his eyes. As her fingertips glanced over a fresh cut that ran along his eyebrow, he got the feeling she wanted to say something. Given the look of concern that had replaced her earlier passion, he had a good idea of just what the subject would be. "I'm fine," he insisted before she could give voice to her worry.

She studied him for one long moment before at last putting some space between them. "'Course you are, you're home now. Go get settled, dinner's in twenty."

More then ready for his turn in the shower, and admittedly it would have to be a cold one given Sara's warm reception, Dean turned to go. At the last minute, he turned back to watch her. Her gaze was focused out the back window, leaving him with only a view of her profile. With her flushed cheeks and slightly mussed air, he couldn't help but feel a bit of masculine pride when she let loose with a long sigh and fanned her hot cheeks.

That entire weekend, Sara had gone out of her way to discuss nothing more stressful than what they might like for dinner. Meals were unhurried and relaxed affairs that usually ended with everyone helping out in the kitchen. Evenings were spent gathered around the table, playing card games, Jimmy was quickly becoming a card shark, or watching movies in the living room.

All in all, the brothers had left the Powers family feeling good, and ready to get back to work.

Memories of that one small moment and a thousand just like it kept Dean moving despite the exhaustion and pain that insisted he lay down and give up. Really he had no choice but to continue, no when so many people's happiness depended on Sara's survival. For her family, her friends and most of all for himself, she had to be okay. "I'm coming, Sara," he whispered as he continued to make his way down the dark tunnel.

888

"Caroline."

The whispered voice nudged at Sara's consciousness forcing her to open her eyes. For a moment, she ignored the insistent voice and instead focused on the meager fire before her. She lay on the ground, her cheek resting on her folded arms, the long length of her body as close to the blaze as she could get without actually catching on fire. Icy tendrils of cold sneaked in beneath the broken barricade behind her, and she swore the temperature was continuing to drop. Fire wood was quickly becoming a necessity as she'd nearly burned her way through all the wood she'd managed to gather earlier.

"Caroline."

No longer able to ignore the voice, Sara pushed herself upright and shifted, holding her hands out to the warmth before her. At first, despite searching out the shadows for a glimpse of her stalker, she could find no sight of him. Then a hint of movement caught her eye. Turning to fully face the corridor just beyond the light, she watched as a form coalesced out of the shadows.

"I was afraid something was wrong, you've been asleep for awhile."

Downright freaked by the idea that the spirit had been watching her, Sara was careful to keep her fear hidden. "I'm hurt," she replied honestly, "and cold."

The slim young man drew back a step as if he was aware that he was lowering the room's already cold temperature. "You need a bigger fire."

"I can't reach anymore of the wood, my leg," she offered with a gesture toward her braced appendage.

"They hurt you," the ghost growled, his easy-going expression suddenly turning black.

Sara shrank back in fear, as the wind kicked up and began buffeting her. Afraid that his sudden outburst would snuff her fire completely Sara called out, "Please, don't it's so cold."

At her cry he took a step toward her, his hand held out in apology and the wind disappeared completely. "I'm sorry, I can't...when I think about what they did to you."

Now shivering actively, Sara wrapped her arms about her waist. "Please...cold," she whispered.

Immediately the spirit began moving backward his form flickering in the faint glow from the fire. "I couldn't help you then and I can't help you now," he moaned, as he became even more insubstantial.

Despite the fact that the man was most likely the reason for her crash, Sara couldn't help but feel sorry for him. It was obvious he'd truly loved his Caroline. Still she doubted sympathy for the devil was likely to keep her alive. She needed Dean and Sam to find her. "You said earlier someone was here?"

"I won't let those bastards hurt you again," the spirit promised as he stepped closer, bringing another wave of cold, "I took care of him."

At the spirit's confirmation, Sara whispered, "Dean," and sagged to the floor once more. Despair ran through Sara, flooding what little hope she'd had left.

888

"You stubborn, son-of-a-bitch," Sam snarled as he borrowed his brother's favorite curse. He stood, all of his weight resting on his heels, the muscles in his forearms aching with strain, as he attempted to hold back Jack.

He'd been hotfooting his way back to the car, the dog trotting eagerly by his side, when the animal had all of the sudden darted east. Barely able to keep up with the beast, he'd at last managed to get enough slack on the leash to brace himself and stop the animal. That, however, was as far as he got. Now, here he stood locked in a battle he had little hope of winning, as he prayed that the dog's leash and collar held out.

"I'm not letting go, Jack," he groaned as he put more of his weight on the leash. He knew he was beating his head against a post as far as the dog was concerned. Jack wouldn't give up simply because Sam wanted him to, however, the youngest Winchester was nothing if not stubborn himself. He was determined to gather their gear before he set about tracking his brother and Sara. Right now, even if he did stumble across them, he had nothing more than pocket lint to offer help with. "We're going to the car."

He couldn't help but feel a bit smug as the leash in his hand suddenly went slack. "Good, dog," he placated as he turned to continue on his way. Near as he could figure he had only about another ten or fifteen minutes to go before he reached the highway and the Impala.

Really, what happened next was his fault. He should have remembered that Jack was every bit as contrary as his beautiful, albeit trouble seeking, owner. Sam had just relaxed his grip on the dog's leash when the animal bolted, neatly pulling the bright red line out of Sam's hands. Now completely free, the dog kept just out of hunter's reach, all the while growling deep in his throat.

"Crap," Sam complained as he watched the dog gotten one over on him dance about. "We need weapons, dog. You get me?"

Way past the point where he felt stupid for trying to reason with the Saint Bernard, Sam kept his feet planted and argued, "No, Jack, car."

With a pleading whine, Jack darted forward, and snapped at Sam's sleeve effectively trapping the hunter. That's when Sam gave up. As he stood there, his arm caught firmly in Jack's monster jaws, while the dog's large, liquid brown eyes pleaded up at him, he simply couldn't refuse. "Okay, boy, you win. Let's go."

At his words, Jack dropped Sam's arm, turned and darted off into the moonlit night. Following close on the beasts heels, Sam couldn't help but feel relief. Despite the fact that he was flying blind it was good to be doing something at last.

**TBC**

**Chapter End Notes:**

Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews - Kel ;)


	8. Chapter 8

888

"You're shivering."

Sara ignored the obvious statement and clumsily worked the paper she held in her hands. She'd long ago burned the last of her wood, leaving her with nothing other than the few remaining pages of her manuscript to burn. Determined to make the feeble fuel last as long as she could she was twisting the sheets of paper into stick-like shapes, at least that way she could pretend they were taking longer to burn.

The problem was the spirit, though he'd made no attempts to hurt her, was lowering the already frigid room to an even colder temperature just by his presence. It didn't help that any time he became agitated a bone-chilling gust of wind kicked up. All in all, the fellow's deep freeze factor had managed to render useless what little heat the fire was putting off.

Feeding the fire had long since become an act of futility.

Still, she twisted the paper into knots, working hard to stave off what she now believed was unavoidable. "I'm gonna freeze to death in some friggin' cave in bumfuck nowhere," Sara muttered.

"Don't talk like that," the spirit implored as he took a step closer.

More than fed up with Gloomy Gus' pep-talks Sara snapped, "What do you expect, it's ten degrees in here and this fire isn't worth a friggin' damn."

The spirit, as if surprised by her outburst, drew back a few steps. Frowning, he shoved his hands deep in his pants pockets and chided, "You never curse."

Sara had to admit the spirit probably had reason to sound petulant. Though she hadn't actually claimed to be the distraught man's dead sweetheart, neither had she set him straight. Now here she was, tarnishing the poor girl's reputation. She opened her mouth all set to apologize, and then instead blurted, "I'm not Caroline."

Seeing the shock that registered on the young man's face, Sara hastened to soften the blow, "I'm really sorry, but my name's Sara."

"Stop teasing, Caro, it's not funny."

Having her sincere confession tossed back in her face got Sara's blood boiling faster than any fire ever could. For the last too many hours she'd kept quiet about her identity, certain she'd be in even more danger if the spirit knew the truth. However, now that she'd blurted out the truth she'd be damned if she'd take it back. "My name is Sara, I live in Haycock, I have three kids and a dog. I'm not your Caroline."

"Stop it, Caroline, I know you must hate me but don't talk like that." he growled, his form flickering in the firelight.

At his cry, the wind kicked up once more, ripping right through her meager sweatshirt. A slave to her own body, Sara's shivering increased until she was certain she would crack a tooth from her chattering. "I'm telling you the truth," she ground out, and then continued in a somewhat softer tone, "I'm sorry, but I'm not her."

"Why would you lie, Caro?" he replied, his voice gruff with emotion. "Haven't you forgiven me?"

Guilt made her heart ache as she tried to form her words. She was half-tempted to recant her confession, but really if this was the end of her life, she wanted someone, even if it was simply the spirit of a long lost man, to know her name. "There's nothing to forgive. I don't know where your Caroline is, but I'm telling you, I'm not her."

With a cry of pain that caused Sara's ears to ache, the ghost flickered, the wind funneling through the room now nearing cyclone status, and charged toward her. "I love you...I couldn't protect you..."

Now freezing, Sara curled up as well as she could, her arms covering her head as she waited for the blow she could only imagine was coming.

888

The scream of rage that shattered the stillness of the moonlit night could never have been mistaken for anything even remotely human. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact that they were in Pennsylvania farm country, Sam would have believed a mountain lion was stalking them. As it was, he had no doubt that what he heard had to have been the cause of Sara's accident.

It was unnecessary to urge Jack on. At the cry, the dog had already picked up the pace to the point where Sam was stumbling to keep his feet under him as they careened through the forest. If it wasn't for his own sense of urgency egging him on, Sam would have forced the dog to slow, instead he continued to urge him forward.

"Come on, Jack," the hunter called.

Just then the dog gave a raucous bark and surged forward. This time Sam just couldn't keep up. Instead, he watched as Jack darted toward a low hillock and disappeared from sight. Caution overriding his instinct, he slowed and kept to the shadows as he approached what appeared to be an abandoned mine. He had just reached the boarded up entrance when Jack began whining pitifully.

Given the tone of Jack's whining, he was certain the dog was with Sara. What he wanted was to follow the animal through the ragged barricade without a care, what he did was sidle up to the largest opening and glanced inside. He couldn't see make out very many details. The only thing he could be sure of was Sara's limp form lying on the ground just inside the opening.

Jack was curled up beside her, his huge brown head resting across her body as he continued to whine. As the dog caught Sam's gaze, he gave a low bark as if urging Sam to hurry.

Unable to see or sense any immediate danger, Sam did just that.

888

Sara awoke to a pressure on her chest that wasn't allowing her to draw a comfortable breath. Unsure of what was wrong, she forced her gritty eyes open and found herself staring up into a huge black face. "Jack," she whimpered even as she relished the dog's body heat.

She had to admit, despite his doggy breath, she couldn't have been happier to have her faithless friend back. "Why'd you blow out on me, big guy?" she questioned even as she tucked her freezing hands deep into his fur coat.

"Sara?"

At Sam's questioning call, the widow couldn't stop the tears that sprang into her eyes and overflowed down her cheeks. "Sammy?" she croaked even as she struggled to climb out from underneath two hundred pounds of stinky dog.

"Thank God, just stay still." she heard him mutter even as his hulking shadow filled the room, blocking out what little moonlight made it through the door.

Content to follow the younger man's orders, Sara relaxed beneath Jack's warm weight and asked, "Dean?"

Sam's silence, so loud in the already quiet room, was a clear indication that her lover was in trouble. "What's wrong, Sam?"

The hunter took a knee by her side, pressed the back of his hand against her cheek, and sighed, "Nothing...I think. We ended up getting separated."

It didn't take a genius to realize the youngest Winchester was worried. Sara struggled against Jack's weight and reassured him, "We'll find him."

"We nothing," Sam stated firmly as he pushed her back flat, "the only thing we're doing is getting you patched up. Dean can take care of himself."

Unable to get up and leave on her own, Sara admitted, "Fine, me first, but then we're gonna find him."

With a nod of his shaggy head, Sam agreed, "Deal."

888

"Damn," Sam whispered as he at last freed Sara's leg from her makeshift splint. It didn't take much to see she'd really done a number on it. There was a slight protrusion a couple inches below her knee. "Well, you broke it for sure."

"I could have told you that much, Winchester," Sara whispered brokenly, "even I know there's not supposed to be two kneecaps."

Sam latched onto Sara's joke with the desperation of a drowning man as he spied the remains of a fire. "Yeah, well if you keep insisting on getting yourself kidnapped, I'm gonna have to start training you, this is sloppy work," he said with a weak laugh as he indicated the meager remains of the splint she'd concocted.

"I did not get kidnapped," she spat indigently, "I was looking for shelter."

Knowing full well what he needed to do next, and just how much pain it was going to cause the feisty brunette, Sam worked to distract them both. "This is you rescuing yourself?" he teased as he gained his feet and began searching for more firewood.

"Hey, I did damn good, found shelter, made a fire, what more did you want?"

He couldn't have agreed more, the woman had done a fine job of rescuing herself, or at least of waiting for rescue, if only she wasn't a magnet for trouble. "And the fact that it's freezing in here and you managed to trip over the only spirit for miles around?" he teased as he ducked out into the cold night air to gather some firewood.

"Sorry, I can't offer you better accommodations," Sara yelled after him, "as for the ghost, he found me, I didn't find him."

As he came back into the cavern, he couldn't help but ask, "What do you mean?"

"I think he's the reason I crashed," she explained, "I was just cruising along and all the sudden the rental started acting up. I think he did it on purpose."

"Great," Sam muttered as he dropped down to the ground beside her. "So this thing picked you for a reason?"

Silence greeted his question, causing him to look over his shoulder at the widow. "Sara?"

"Apparently, he thinks I'm someone named Caroline," she blurted.

Unsure of what to do with that information, Sam ignored it for the time being and asked, "Let me have your light."

This time despite the dim light, Sam could see Sara's white teeth flash as she grinned. "Don't have one."

"You didn't start a fire?" he asked her as he dug out his own book of matches.

"Oh, no I had one going, was really blazing. I just didn't use matches," she bragged.

"Well, Firestarter, you'll have to show me this trick sometime, but in the meanwhile, how about some light." With these words, he scraped the match over the box and proceeded to light the fire. "There, much better."

Cheered by the blaze, he turned back to Sara with a smile. "Now let's get that leg..." his words trailed off as he got his first really good look at widow.

She sat, leaning back against the wall of the cave, Jack's big head lying on her stomach. Her pale face was a mass of bruises and scrapes. If Sam had to guess, he would have assumed she had fallen down the mountainside sans car. Thanks to a split in her lip, and what looked like a cut on her forehead, her grey sweatshirt was streaked with blood and mud, and her jeans looked as if she'd crawled most of the way to the tunnel. Then again, given the state of her leg, he probably wasn't far off the mark.

"You're disgusting."

With a smile that threatened to open up the cut on her lip, Sara flipped him the middle finger. "Thanks, Sam, means a lot coming from a guy that looks like he was dragged thru a mud hole."

Having forgotten his own little trip down the mountain, Sam just grinned. "Yeah, but at least Casper's not making eyes at me."

"What can I say I'm irresistible."

Sam had to admit she was right. Even now as she lay there, covered in filth, her eyes ringed with exhaustion, he found himself drawn toward her warmth. "Damn straight you are."

Even more determined to deliver her back to his brother, more or less in tact, Sam focused on her leg. As he dug out his pocketknife, he worked to distract her, "So, where's your new found friend?" As careful as he tried to be, Sam didn't miss her grimace of pain as he cut away her pant leg, fully exposing her injured leg.

"We kinda had a disagreement; he took off in a huff."

"Took off in a huff," he laughed, "only you could manage to talk a spirit into leaving." With his hands hovering over her frozen flesh, Sam paused. He knew he needed to manipulate the bone back into place. However, the knowing and the doing were two different things. He'd done this same task for his brother twice and once for his father, but that only served to make it all the harder. He had first hand experience of just how much pain he was going to cause Sara.

"I'm good, Sammy, just get it done," she reassured him, her voice wavering only slightly.

With a nod, he grimly held her knee immobile and manipulated the bone back into place.

Sara's scream echoed about the chamber, causing Sam's ears to ring even as he worked to immobilize her limb once more. At last, with the splint in place, he moved toward her head, calling to her softly. Lucky for them both she'd passed out cold at his first touch. "Sara," he called as he lightly tapped her cold cheek.

Just then, Jack began to growl his eyes focused not on Sara or himself, but on the far side of the tunnel. Already certain of what would be there, Sam kept his focus on Sara, trusting Jack to warn him of any immanent attack. "Come on, Sara, I need you to do a little ghost whispering here, wake up."

Unconscious from the pain, her eyes remained closed.

"Don't touch her!"

With these words, a cold wind blew through the cave, buffeting Sam and Sara in its ferocity. Hovering over the widow, trying to protect her from the worst of it, Sam shouted, "I'm not hurting her, she needs help."

Even as he said the words, he had to admit he never expected the spirit to listen. It was more an act of desperation. Though he was capable of carrying her out of the cave, he knew there would be no more safety to be found outside in the elements where the spirit could strike at will.

"Help? Ha! You did this to her."

Jack's growl deepened even as the temperature in the room dropped more. Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Sam saw the spirit on the far side of the tunnel. He stood leaning forward, his hands clenched at his sides, his face drawn up in a snarl of anger. If it wasn't for the improbability and the fact that the man flickered in and out of sight repeatedly, Sam would have sworn he was made up of flesh and blood. "She's my friend and she's hurt. I'm going to help her," Sam implored suddenly wishing he'd asked Sara how she'd managed to drive the ghost off.

At his words, the spirit growled in rage and raised his hands, calling forth another artic blast of cold.

Now shivering himself, Sam pulled Sara even closer. Her slight form was shaking with cold, and her breathing had grown shallow. Jack jumped up, leaving Sara's side and moved in front of Sam, putting himself between them and the spirit. Ignoring the wind that pulled at his coat, the dog stood his ground, his growl growing from a slight sound to a bone-chilling warning.

"You've killed her. Her blood is on your hands. I won't let you get away this time."

"Hold on, Sara," Sam whispered even as he waited for the inevitable blow.

**TBC**

**Chapter End Notes:**

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews - Kel


	9. Chapter 9

888

It was the quiet that was killing him. He could stand scrambling over piles of discarded equipment, so rusted it crumbled beneath his hands and feet. He could ignore the drops of icy cold water that leaked down upon him leaving him shivering despite his blood pumping pace. He could even ignore the collapsed support beams that left him contemplating just what was holding up the mountain above him.

What he couldn't handle, as he made his way steadily forward, was the complete and utter silence. There was nothing, not a creature, not a breath of fresh air, not even the hint of whatever had tossed him down into this black pit in the first place. No sound except the scrape and thump of his own boots.

Dean hated it, the quiet, the stillness that seemed impenetrable. For a while, in order to combat the silence, he'd tried singing. It had done nothing to alleviate the crypt-like feel of the mine, though. Instead, the echoing sound had seemed to only make the absence of natural sound more wrong.

Then at last he'd come to the end of his tunnel. There he stood contemplating his next move. He was standing in the main branch of a three-way intersection. His options consisted of turning around and going back the way he'd come, or, making either a left or right. Despite the worry that he'd waste time by picking the wrong direction, he had to admit the sight of the tunnel gave him more hope than he'd had in awhile. Wider than what he'd been struggling through so far, it was obviously a main branch. Now, if only he knew which way to go. Standing in the tunnel, his flashlight's dim light ghosting over his options, he just couldn't decide.

It was then a piercing scream echoed down the tunnel to his left. Without thought, Dean turned and bolted in that direction. His weariness drained away as he tore down the passageway.

He'd traveled maybe ten minutes when he noticed his light was barely penetrating the darkness. In a matter of seconds, he was going to find himself trapped inside the mine without any means of light. Unable to do much else, Dean continued forward, his only hope now the scream he'd just heard.

Then just like that, the light went out and he was surrounded by darkness, a black so thick he could feel the weight of it holding him down with every staggered step. "Damn," he whispered as he slowed even more, his hands held outstretched before him. Just then, his foot caught the edge of something causing him to go down hard. There he lay in the dark, his breathing jagged as he tried to find the will to get up and go on.

It was while he was on the ground that he realized the darkness wasn't as impenetrable as it had been only a few minutes earlier. Instead, there seemed to a lightening farther down the corridor. With his gaze focused hard on the faint glow, Dean began to search the ground before him to determine just what he'd tripped over. At last, his hands closed upon the smooth wooden shaft of a tool. Following the length of the wood to its end, he felt the hard iron edge of what must be a pickaxe.

Hefting the weapon in his hands, he took a moment to enjoy its solid weight.

Now feeling better for being armed, albeit poorly, Dean got to his feet and began to move toward the light.

888

Sam tightened his grip on the widow, pulling her fully beneath his body in order to shield her from the debris that were now flying about the chamber. Even Jack was down low, his big body skimming the ground even as he tried to duck and dodge the wood and stone that was being flung about.

"Let go of her! I won't let you hurt her."

This time the voice was too near. Sam had only a split second to tighten his grip before something grabbed him from behind. The force was strong enough he very nearly lost his grip on Sara. With a cry that was caught on the wind before it had a chance to even echo in the big room, Sam strained to keep his hold on the unconscious form in his arms.

"Her name is Sara, she's not who you think she is," Sam ground out as he was whacked in the back with another sizable chunk of stone.

"She's mine!" the spirit cried as he flickered and disappeared.

Just like that, the wind died and the rubble that had been spinning through the air dropped to the ground, pelting Sam and Jack. Carefully, the hunter lifted his head, his eyes scanning the dimly lit chamber. "Jack, come," he ordered.

The dog needed no second invitation; he was pressed up against Sam's side before the dust could settle. "Good dog," Sam muttered drawing comfort from the animal's warm body. "Come on, Sara," he urged as he gently tapped the brunette's cheek. "You gotta wake up."

Despite the sudden calm, Sam couldn't find it in himself to relax, the quiet seemed more like the calm before the storm rather than a true reprieve. Torn between the urge to run with Sara as far and as fast as he could, and his instinct which screamed he stay put and dig in, Sam chose to stay. The idea of facing the spirit's anger inside the cavern was preferable to risking a run through the forest with Sara tossed over his shoulder. Not only would it cause her excruciating pain, it would also leave him open to attack from every side.

Carefully he eased away from the widow and sat up. Once the wind had stopped, the fire had flamed back to life. He tossed a bit more wood on the blaze finding reason to be thankful for the mini cyclone. It had shaken lose a good bit of scrap wood. The only problem was, the shaggy haired hunter was afraid it had also shaken up the support beams of the ancient mine.

Sam was sitting, his back to the widow, feeding the flames when the spirit struck. One moment the young hunter was on the ground and the next he was flying through the air only to land hard against the far wall.

Agony poured through him as he tried to get up. Jack's once fierce cry, now turned into a whimper, urged him to move, to see what the spirit was doing. "Sara," Sam called as inch by inch, he forced himself to move despite the pain. He turned to see the dog, standing before Sara's unmoving body, the spirit slowly approaching. Jack's white teeth snapped at the air before him as he lunged forward again and again.

The ghost took no notice of the dog, instead he moved even closer and knelt down next to Sara. Sam could do nothing but watch helplessly as the translucent specter reached down one lone finger to trace the contours of Sara's face.

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Sara came to with a gasp, her hand going up to her cheek in confusion. "Sam?" she cried as she tried to focus on her surroundings. A lingering chill resided in her cheek making her face ache from the cold. As understanding set in, she retreated as far as the stone wall would allow, to avoid the ghost's outstretched hand.

"I'm here," the youngest Winchester called out from across the room.

Like a beacon, his voice drew her gaze as she worked to ignore the apparition that stared steadily at her, one hand stretched out in supplication.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice wavering from fear and cold.

"Define okay?" was the hunter's response.

A weak grin tugged at Sara's lips despite her fear. She couldn't help but admire the man for his calm façade. "Okay as in any minute now you're going to pull out one of your beloved shotguns and fill this sucker full of salt," Sara bantered weakly as she forced herself into a sitting position.

"Oh, then I'm not okay," Sammy replied a trace of humor in his tone.

"Damn," Sara ground out.

Unable to procrastinate any longer, the widow held one hand out, gesturing for the ghost to stay put. "I told you, I'm not your Caroline, he's here to help me, not hurt me. You have to let us go."

"Caroli-"

"No don't say it, look at me, I'm not her. I'm not that woman."

At last, a trace of confusion lit the spirit's features causing Sara to feel a moment's pity. Despite the havoc he'd wrought in her life it was obvious he'd once truly loved his Caroline. She couldn't help but wonder what the poor woman's fate had been. It couldn't have been a good one considering the spirit's insistence that he 'save' Sara.

"He was hurting you, I saw him."

"No," Sam spoke up in his defense, "I was helping her."

Sara almost wished he'd stayed quiet, she really had no desire to see first hand just how Sam had managed to end up on the opposite side of the room. "Listen, just let us go. I'm telling you you're wrong, he's not evil and I'm not your girl. You're place isn't here."

She very nearly winced at the sappiness of her own last words. It had been a long time since she'd considered the ramifications of heaven and hell. From the moment she'd awoken, alone and lost in a hospital room, only to be told her husband was dead, her faith in God had been nearly nonexistent. The last couple of hours really hadn't done much to restore her belief. Still there was no reason not to pander the man upstairs to her captor.

"I don't...what do you mean?"

"Shit," Sam grumbled.

Despite having heard Winchester's opinion of her escape plan, Sara continued, "You have to realize you're dead, you're a spirit."

In the blink of an eye, the phantom was across the room, his own arms wrapped tight about his waist as he shook his head from side to side. "No...I don't know what you're....no!"

Just like that, it winked out of existence as the wind kicked up again.

"Sara!" Sam called out as he staggered to his feet.

The room about them began to shake, the timbers holding the mountain at bay trembling with the strain. More afraid of becoming trapped under hundreds of tons of dirt and rock, then the pain of moving, Sara leaned back against the wall and pushed herself upright with her good leg.

Agony poured through her as first her bruised and battered body, then her leg protested the movement. Still, Sara persevered, forcing herself toward the exit. Dirt and rock began to pelt her from above, huge chunks of the ceiling collapsing left and right as she neared the opening with Sam right on her tail.

It was then something gripped the back of her jeans, pulling her good leg backward and leaving her to collapse on her broken one. The last thought that flashed through her mind, as she felt herself being dragged backward, was a sense of vindication. Obviously, she was right, given the pain she was in and the certainty that she about to be buried alive, there couldn't be a god.

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Even though Sam was only two steps behind Sara, he still wasn't certain what had happened. They'd been moving toward the mine entrance, Sara in the lead, when all the sudden she'd dropped like a stone with a scream of agony that had drowned out the cacophony of noise from the ceiling that was swiftly caving in. Then she was gone, drug backward from the entrance.

Acting on instinct alone, Sam had darted after her intending to rip her from the spirit's grip with his bare hands if necessary. Instead, he'd found himself staring at Jack who was steadily jerking the widow backward deeper into the tunnel.

A moment later the ceiling collapsed only feet from where Sam now stood. Not taking time to consider his luck he'd grabbed up the widow, issued the dog a harsh order to follow and had darted into the pitch black tunnel to what he hoped was safety, or at the very least not imminent death. As he ran, his only thought was there must be a god, and Jack must rate pretty high on the deity's list of who's who because the dog was no doubt an angel.

He hadn't gone far when the complete darkness of the tunnel took its toll causing him to trip. He stumbled hard, only just maintaining his balance, as he worked to keep from dropping the widow. She lay so still in his arms, her breathing shallow and fast.

"Easy, Sara," he implored as he gently lowered her to the ground. Trusting in Jack to warn him of a threat, Sam ran his hand down the length of her leg trying to discern just how much more damaged she'd suffered. He was relieved to find his splint had held up well, needing only a few adjustments. That done, he was left with nothing more to do other than sit and wait. The mountain still rumbled overhead, occasionally raining stone showers down on the couple. Other than try and protect her face and head, there wasn't much Sam could offer for protection. He was afraid to carry her deeper into the recesses of the mind for fear of becoming lost. At least where he sat now he could easily find his way out.

The fact that the way out was now buried in a mountain of dirt and rock was something Sam preferred not to think about.

Given the utter lack of light, he was grateful for the feel of Sara in his arms. At least she was real, something he could hold onto. He couldn't even begin imagining what it would be like to sit here in the dark by himself.

He'd been waiting for awhile, possibly even dozing off and on when he felt a movement by his side. At first, he thought it was Sara waking up. It was only after he heard a scrape and a click from farther down the tunnel that he realized it must be Jack. Though he couldn't see the big animal he could hear the dog's familiar tread as he walked away from Sam.

Unsure of what had set the animal off, he wavered between leaving Sara's side to see what the dog was about, and staying put and saying to hell with the dog. Fatigue won out. There was no way he could leave Sara alone in the dark, and the idea of carrying her even a few more feet was simply more than he was up for.

Jack's heavy footsteps echoed away until there was nothing more than silence interspersed with the occasional creak or groan of timbers.

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One minute Dean had been running headlong toward what he was clearly a shaft of light and the next he was leaning against the cavern wall praying that the whole damn thing didn't fall down on top of him. As he waited out the collapse, he could only hope he'd been wrong, that it hadn't been Sara's cry he'd heard earlier. The idea that she might now be buried in the cave-in was one he refused to consider. Instead, he waited out the last of the rumblings and then continued at a much slower, fumbling pace.

Despite the fact that the earlier glow was gone, Dean moved forward. He knew the way was clear as long as he stuck to the center of the tunnel. At least he hoped.

He'd been traveling for maybe ten minutes when he heard a faint sound. Afraid of another cave-in he stopped and waited, holding his breath as he tried to pinpoint the noise. There, in the tunnel with him, it sounded as if something was breathing, panting hard. Without a clue as to what it might be, Dean tightened his grip on the axe he held and waited, his body braced for anything. Well, anything, except the loud woof accompanied by a shaggy body that ran into him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Dean's weapon dropped to the ground as he wrapped his arms around the wriggling body. "Good dog...good dog," he repeated over and over again. At last, he picked up his weapon and placed his hand lightly on Jack's warm broad back. Content that at least he wasn't alone anymore, he urged the dog forward, "Let's go find 'em"

As if the animal understood him, the dog took the lead, confidently drawing Dean farther and farther down the corridor.

"Jack?"

His brother's questioning voice was like an answered prayer.

"Sammy!"

"Dean!" Sammy called out his voice harsh in the echoing tunnel.

The elder hunter moved unerringly toward the sound of his baby brother's voice a wide grin plastered across his face.

**TBC **


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Chapter Notes:**

**A special thanks goes out to Fredo for the quicky-beta, you're the best hon! ;)**

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"Damn, Sammy am I glad to see you," Dean groaned as he gingerly made his way toward his brother's voice.

"Yeah, well that makes two of us, Bro," Sam replied, relief evident in the younger hunter's voice.

Dean edged forward until the toe of his boot came up against something solid. He had to admit he was more than done with being alone. Gingerly he reached out until he gripped the younger man's shoulder. The solid feel of his brother went a long way toward making the situation bearable. "Don't suppose you have a light?"

"Actually," Sam replied, "I do. It's in my pants pocket."

Irritated with Sam's cryptic answer, Dean snapped, "You planning on reaching for it anytime now, or do I have to frisk you for it?"

"Trust me, man, last thing I want is you sticking your hand in my pocket. Problem is my hands are kinda full right now."

As Sam's words sank in, Dean felt a hitch in his chest. Afraid to believe, he carefully reached out. Instead of hitting the younger hunter's solid chest, his hand encountered a much softer and feminine body part. "Dude, nice rack," Dean quipped breathily.

"Ha, ha," Sam groaned, "Here take her and I'll get us some light."

Afraid to believe that it truly was Sara, Dean gingerly gathered up the woman whom Sam held so carefully. "How'd you find her?"

"Don't jostle the leg," Sam warned as he helped get her settled.

Heeding Sam's warning, Dean gathered Sara's chilled form against his chest and held on tight. As he leaned down, his lips carefully brushing against her hair he couldn't help but inhale her familiar scent. For one long moment he concentrated on nothing other than the feel of her in his arms. How she fit so perfectly, neither too tall to handle, nor so short she felt insubstantial, Sara had a realness to her that Dean never took for granted.

The urge to check her over for injuries was nearly overwhelming, however given his lack of light and Sam's lack of panic, he held off.

As if reading his mind, and really he probably was given the amount of time they spent in each other's pockets, Sam offered, "She's fine, just worn out and freezing."

The elder Winchester didn't need his brother telling him that Sara was freezing. Everywhere their bodies touched, he could feel the icy chill of her skin. "Her leg?" he questioned as he began briskly running his hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm her.

"Car rolled over it. She's damn lucky the ground was so soft or she would have lost it."

"Lucky, huh?" Dean sighed heavily as he considered what his brother had told him. He wasn't sure if he should deride Sara's lack of luck, or if, given the fact that she'd survived so far, he should consider her the luckiest person ever.

"You haven't heard the least of it," Sam complained as a sudden spark flared bright in the black cave.

As Sam put the match to timber, a wash of light and warmth flooded the wide corridor allowing Dean to get his first glimpse of Sara's battered countenance. Pale skin, except where blood had mixed with dirt, and deep shadows left the young widow looking well beyond her years.

"Apparently, her rental was pushed off the highway by a ghost."

Dean snorted, "'course it was. Why is it I'm not surprised?"

Sam's grin flashed bright. "You gotta admit, she might not be a Winchester by birth, but she's got our luck."

The elder hunter couldn't help but grin, Sam had a point. "So, that's how she broke her leg?" he asked as he skimmed one hand over Sam's makeshift splint.

"Actually, she walked away from the crash only to break it while in the process of trying to find her phone."

Laying one calloused hand against her cheek, Dean carefully brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her face. "And then?"

"She managed to fashion a splint and made her way to the mine entrance."

Dean snorted, "I can't believe she thought this place was her best bet."

"You gotta give her credit, if it wasn't for the ghost we would have found her safe and sound sitting inside the cavern waiting for rescue."

"If only," Dean muttered as he pulled his gaze from her face and began to assess their circumstances. Other than the fact that they were together, they didn't have much going for them. No weapons, well unless you counted the pickaxe in his hand, no supplies, and near as he could figure, only one way out. "This thing coming back, Sam, or is trapping us inside here enough for it?

Sam fed a bit more wood into the fire and smiled grimly. "It thinks Sara is its long lost love. There's no way it's gonna just leave us alone."

"A supernatural crush...just great."

"Yeah, well unfortunately this thing's serious. He tossed me around when I tried to help her."

"Damn."

"Yeah, that about sums it up. How'd you end up in here?" Sam asked as he snapped his fingers for Jack's attention.

The dog who'd been staring intently at Sara glanced at the younger man for a moment then rose to his feet and made his way to Sam's side. Dean could blame Sam for wanting a bit of companionship. With its wet stone walls and dank cold air the mine tunnel wasn't the most welcome of places. Even the fire's bright glow did little to dissipate the claustrophobic feel of the corridor.

"Fell in," Dean admitted sheepishly. He still couldn't believe he'd been duped by a ghost. "Damn thing led me right to a sink hole."

"You hurt?" Sam asked.

"Naw, landed on my head."

"Well at least that's the hardest part of your body," Sam joked.

Dean groaned at the lame joke and gestured toward the way he'd come from. "I can get us back there."

Sam nodded and gestured toward the litter that was strewn across the rock flooring. "I can probably make us a couple torches. Is there anyway back out of the hole?"

Unsure but not seeing an option, Dean just shrugged. "Don't see us having many other options. You get us some light and I'll carry her out."

Just then a welcome, but weak, voice piped up, "I can walk."

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Dean's soft laugh at her outrageous words warmed her more than the body heat he was throwing off. Too weak to counter his opinion of her strength or lack of, Sara cuddled closer to his chest and savored the moment.

During those last few moments spent in the chamber, she'd honestly figured she would never see the hunter again. To awake in his arms was like heaven.

Strike that, she thought, as he tightened his hold and brushed his lips against hers. This was infinitely better. "Thanks for coming for me," she whispered painfully. The ton of dirt she'd inhaled in the cave-in had left her throat aching to rival her leg.

"Always," he promised, his bright green eyes fixed upon her own. "I'll always come for you."

That's all it took for Sara to fall apart.

One moment she was convincing herself that she was a strong, independent woman, that she could hold back the pain, and that she was a survivor. Then with a few softly spoken words he destroyed all her defenses leaving her sobbing pathetically.

"Shh....it's okay. I'm here," he promised as he rocked her back and forth.

It was then Sara realized he really was there, that no matter what might come, he would always be there. The better part of her adult life had been spent being brave, taking care of those she loved with a single-mindedness that excluded her own wants and needs.

At least until Dean. He was the first truly selfish thing she'd done for herself in a long time. In him, she'd recognized a kindred soul. Someone strong whom loved, every bit, as hard as she did. Her relationship with the hunter was unlike any she'd ever had before. With him, it was a constant give and take. They bolstered each other in the rough times and held each other in the good.

Acknowledging the fact that she no longer needed to be strong, that it was okay to admit she was hurting, did more to stop her broken sobs then Dean's awkward words. As she wound down, he used the edge of his shirt to wipe her eyes. Given the look of abject pity on his face, she could only imagine how disgusting she must look.

With a weak grin she apologized, "Sorry, didn't mean to do that."

Dean laughed softly and leaned until his lips were only a hairsbreadth from her own. "No worries, given what you've been through, I'm thinking you didn't cry long enough."

Sara stretched up for a sweet kiss and then leaned back. Feeling more like herself by the minute she dropped him a wink and asked, "You want me to cry some more?"

The handsome hunter shuddered theatrically and shook his head. "Oh, god no."

With a laugh that had her ribs protesting the movement, Sara turned to look about the corridor. "Sam?"

"He's just there," Dean assured her as he pointed toward the shadows. "We're thinking we should get moving. Sammy said this thing usually takes a bit of time to re-charge."

"Sounds right," Sara agreed as she struggled to sit upright.

"Easy," Dean cautioned as he helped her.

"You know the way out?" Sam asked as he materialized from the darkness beyond the fire's ring of light with a jumble of equipment.

"Yeah, I marked the way I came. We should be able to follow it out, or at least to the hole I fell in."

"The hole you fell in..." Sara said with a roll of her eyes. She was well aware of the dangers of Dean's job, however, when he hurt himself trying to help her she couldn't help but feel responsible. "You never do things the easy way do you?"

"Where's the fun in easy?" Dean asked as he gestured toward Sam, "And what are those?"

Sam's grin flashed bright in the fire light as he separated what looked like to harnesses attached to square blocks and helmets. "Backpack lights. I'm hoping there's a bit of juice left in these old batteries."

"Way to go, Sam," Sara breathed beyond happy that they weren't going to have to stagger through the dark with only Sam's pack of matches to light the way.

"Yeah, well don't go getting excited yet, they might not work."

"Only one way to find out," Dean declared.

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"See, we were bound to get some luck," Sam said as he carefully adjusted his lighted mining cap.

"Sam!" Dean and Sara chorused making it clear they disagreed with Sam's blatant tempting of fate.

Their protests left the younger hunter smiling as he led the way deeper into the mountain. He was feeling good. So far they'd traveled for nearly a half-hour undisturbed, the longest Sam had gone without encountering the spirit, and he was quickly becoming confident that the ghost was unable to venture deeper into the tunnel.

Though their pace was slow due to Sara's leg and their combined exhaustion they were still making relatively good time. Near as Sam could figure, if Dean's estimations were close, they should reach the opening by six a.m. Daylight, even just a weak winter sun, should be enough to put the spirit to rest, leaving Sam safe to go for help.

"We're making great time."

"Sam, could you please stop jinxing us," Sara groaned as she stumbled once more over an unseen rock.

The going had been hard for the widow. Although she'd yet to complain, Sam had no doubt that every stumbling step jarred her bad leg, making it flare in agony. He'd happily taken his turn as Sara's human crutch, allowing Dean a bit of a rest earlier, but had then turned her back over to his brother.

He could actually sense Dean's worry rolling off of him in waves. His brother was afraid Sara's pain was worse than she'd admit, opening up thoughts of compound breaks and infection. However, both hunters had agreed that stopping would only serve to keep her from help longer. There was nothing to be done for her. Their only option was to get her out as quickly as possible.

"You hanging in there?"

Sam heard his brother's whispered words but ignored Sara's low reply. He had little doubt that the widow was pushing off his brother's concern. This little nightmare had managed to raise Sam's already considerable esteem for the widow.

Despite the mess they were in, Sam felt that things were finally looking up.

At least that was his thought until he heard Jack let go with a bone-chilling growl.

"Something's coming," Dean shouted even as he drug Sara toward the rocky wall of the tunnel.

"Not something. It's the ghost," Sam corrected even as he cursed himself for his own optimism.

"Great, your ghost boy."

"Hey don't blame me, I'm irresistible," Sara groaned, pain lacing her every word.

As the wind began to pick up, sending debris flying, Jack continued snap and growl at the whirlwind. "He's coming," Sam warned.

"Any suggestions?" The oldest Winchester asked even as he planted himself in front of the widow.

Sam shook his head unsure of what they could do. Dean's iron pickaxe was the closest thing they had to a weapon and really it would only drive the spirit off, it wouldn't get rid of it. Knowing it wasn't enough, but unsure of what more they could do, Sam asked, "Wanna try and outrun it?"

Sara's groan was answer enough.

"It'll kill her," Dean said grimly even as he tightened his grip on his weapon.

The younger Winchester had to agree, being put over Dean's shoulder and run through the dark mine shaft would cause the widow untold agony. Problem was, Sam couldn't see any other way out.

"Just do it," Sara stated firmly as she tugged the axe out of Dean's hands and hefted it toward Sam. "We run, worse that'll happen is I'll pass out. We stay and I'm gonna end up this freak's undead bride."

Dean stood for one long moment undecided before he at last nodded. "Fine, up you go. Jack'll lead, Sammy you follow."

Sam swung the axe twice, getting a feel for the rough wooden handle before gesturing for Dean to get going. He kept one eye on the couple as he waited for them to be ready.

"I'm sorry," Dean muttered even as he dipped his knees and drove his shoulder lightly into Sara's midsection. Standing upright, he easily lifted the brunette off her feet and over his shoulder.

"Oh, God."

Sara's pain-filled gasp only made Sam more conscious of the fact that they had to hurry. "Let's go," he shouted over the wind.

Dean wrapped one arm firmly across the back of Sara's legs, holding her as immobile as he could even as he broke into an uneven trot.

Sam, using every one of his instincts, followed the group, the weak light of his helmet doing little more than deepening the many shadows.

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Sara was gonna puke. There was no way around it. Between the pain that radiated from her leg and Dean's bouncing gate as he sped her through the dark tunnel she was a hairsbreadth away from losing what little she'd eaten today.

Draped as she was, over Dean's rock hard shoulder, throwing-up was a no-win situation.

She had little doubt that the hunter would take such an action with easygoing humor; however, her pride would never let her forget it. It was bad enough she was bent in half, his arm clamped across her legs just below her rear. She was pretty sure the position had to be extremely unflattering, not to mention she was certain her ass was blocking most of his view. Throw in the idea of vomiting all over the back of his coat and she was confident she'd rather have the ghost get her.

With a groan of misery, Sara shifted slightly trying to ease the pressure in her mid-section. Instead, her movement caused another flare of pain, red-hot in its intensity, to flare up her leg. Now wishing she could skip the throwing up and go straight to passing out, she stilled and worked to breathe through the nausea and pain.

"You gonna puke?" Dean questioned his voice from her weight and the pace they were traveling at.

As she regulated her breathing, struggling to hold onto what little dignity she could claim, she lied through her clenched teeth, ""m good."

She wasn't sure if her mumbled statement would prove to be true, but she also knew she had little choice in the matter. To confess to Dean that the pain was beyond what she could stand, would be to risk the elder hunter stopping to take a stand. No way was she going to allow her own weakness to get Sam and him killed.

Carefully, she turned her head, watching Sam's lanky form as he followed only a step behind. The headlamp he had perched on his forehead illuminated his path but made it impossible to read the younger man's expression.

She couldn't help but send a prayer toward the cosmos that she wouldn't end up being the death of either Winchester.

That was Sara's last thought as Dean suddenly stumbled over a foundation timber that had fallen in the earlier collapse. As the hunter lost his footing for a moment, Sara felt sure she was going to hit the ground with a vengeance. Instead, Dean's natural athleticism saved them both, allowing the younger man to regain his balance with a grunt that Sara felt more than heard.

From her vantage point, Sara saw Sam lunge forward his intent clear.

In that one moment, while the younger hunter allowed his guard to slip, the spirit struck. A gust of wind struck Sam, slamming him into the tunnel wall with enough impact to cause him to lose his light and his axe.

Dean, his reaction hampered by the time it took him to set her on her feet, turned an instant too late to help the youth. Instead, he came face-to-face with the opaque form of Sara's mystery ghost.

"I will kill you," the spirit intoned, his expression making it clear that he fully intended to make good on the threat.

"Don't," Sara cried as she struggled to push Dean out of the way.

"Sara, stop," Dean ordered without looking her way. He'd posted himself between her and the spirit and she had no doubt he intended to stay there.

Sara found she didn't care. "He won't hurt me," she insisted as she struggled to get out from behind him.

"You don't know that," Dean chided as he stepped backward, forcing her to move back a stumbling step.

"I do, he thinks I'm his girlfriend."

Dean's snort made it clear what he thought of her statement. "What if he's the one that killed this Caroline girl? He's obviously warped."

At Dean's statement, the spirit flickered again. With anguish rolling through his every word, he advanced on the couple. "I would never hurt you, Caroline, you know that. I love you and I promise you, this time I won't let him hurt you."

Done with Dean's shoving her behind him like a wayward child, done with this spirit's insistence that she was in need of protection, and most of all done with being trapped in the mine, Sara threw out an elbow, catching Dean square in the side and took one wobbling step away from the hunter.

Now, fully exposed to the spirit, she pleaded, "I know you're confused, but I'm not your Caroline and I'm not in trouble."

For one long moment, Sara actually thought she'd made an impression on the spirit, then, before she could develop the connection she saw a flash of movement from just behind the ghost.

Sam, with axe in hand, swung at the spirit causing the young man to dissipate.

"Run," Sam urged even as he grabbed up his hardhat and shoved it back on his head. "It won't give us long."

Dean didn't hesitate, in one smooth motion he turned, shoved his shoulder into Sara's mid-section, hefted her back up with a move that left her breathless, and spun around to follow his brother.

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Dean could not believe what a mess this 'rescue' was turning out to be.

With his brother now leading, he stumbled his way down the corridor, conscious of the fact that he was leaving his back unguarded. "Watch our rear, Sara," he ordered as he worked to keep his footing.

"Watch for what?" she snapped, following up the question with a slap to his back. "It's pitch-black."

Already irritated with the widow for her little stunt, Dean jostled her slightly. "He's your buddy, just keep your eyes open."

Sara's answering moan of pain made him instantly regret his rough handling. "You okay?" he questioned even as he stumbled, jarring her even more.

"Just stop, Dean, we can't outrun it."

The hunter knew she had a point, there was no way he and Sam could hold this thing off indefinitely. He also knew there was little else they could do. Sara's idea, to stop and hold a therapy session with this thing was also out of the question.

At least that's what Dean had decided right up until the moment something hit him square between the shoulder blades, knocking the hunter and Sara to the ground. They fell in a tumble of arms and legs, with Sara's pain-filled cry the only sound he could manage to focus on.

**TBC**

**Chapter End Notes:**

**Thanks much to everyone still following. ;) Kel**


	11. Chapter 11

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"Sara!"

Dean's anguished cry brought Sam to a standstill. Whirling around, he caught only a shadowy glimpse of what he assumed was his brother and Sara lying a few feet behind him. Dean's hat had fallen, creating a pool of light that just barely touched the couple.

Unsure of what had happened, but betting on the spirit, Sam sprinted toward them. He was only a foot from his brother when he noticed a silvery form standing just to the left of the tunnel. Even as he moved to react, to confront the spirit that had eyes only for Dean, Jack's hulking form darted in front of him.

"Dean?" he questioned, as he considered his options. His first instinct was to ignore the dog, which was blocking his way, and confront the spirit that was even now moving toward the downed couple. Problem was it would be a stopgap measure at best.

"Keep going," Dean barked, without looking up from where he hovered over the widow. "Get out, get to the car."

Sam hesitated as he wracked his brain, searching for an alternative. At last, he gave in to the inevitable. "Take this," he called out, tossing his brother the pickaxe even as he gathered himself to make a run for it.

"Follow the markers. There's gotta be something in the tunnel that you can use to get out."

The younger hunter didn't wait to hear for further instruction. Instead, before Dean's last word was out, he was already running full out. As he worked to avoid the worst of the debris, he couldn't help but strain his ears, listening for some sign that Dean and Sara would be okay.

Pushing himself to the limit, he tore down the tunnel in search of Dean's markers.

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"Dean?"

Ignoring his brother's questioning cry, Dean frantically worked over Sara, searching for some sign of life. As he ran his hand down her throat, he made a decision. "Keep going, get out, get to the car."

It was a measure of how dire their situation was, that Sam only hesitated for a moment before he called out, "Take this."

Dean ripped his gaze from Sara's still form just in time to catch the heavy headed axe. "Follow the markers. There's gotta be something in the tunnel you can use to get out," he ordered, even as he dropped the weapon to his side and returned his attention to the widow.

As he listened to his brother's fleeting footsteps, he focused completely on Sara. "Come on, baby," he whispered pressing two shaking fingertips to where her pulse should be.

Unable to locate the elusive beat, he forced himself to breathe deep and calm down. Pushing back the panic that gripped him, he focused his whole world on feeling for even the slightest flutter.

At last, he found it.

Biting back a sob of relief, he kept his fingers on her neck as he counted the beats. Despite her lack of consciousness, her heartbeat was a steady throb beneath his fingers.

Before he could fully wrap his head around the fact that she was still alive, a sliver of cold found its way to the back of his neck, sending a line of chills down his back. The ice-cold warning was all Dean needed. Quick as a flash he spun low, swinging the heavy headed axe in a smooth arc straight toward the spirit that was solidifying only a step behind him.

As the iron blade cut through the figure, an unearthly scream rent the air. The sound had Jack sending up his own howl, as Dean dropping the axe as he leaned protectively over Sara.

888

The spirit's cry echoed the length of the tunnel bringing Sam to a complete stop. Mindless with worry for both his brother and Sara, the young hunter turned and focused on the tunnel he'd just come from. He'd spent the last ten minutes foolishly believing that they all actually had a chance. Thanks to his brother's ingenuity, he'd had no problem following the older man's trail. The carefully piled rocks at each branch had been a clear indication of where Sam should go next.

He hadn't even needed the last marking as a faint glow, coming from the tunnel, had been enough to indicate he was nearing Dean's entrance. At last able to discard the awkward helmet, he'd picked up his pace to nearly a jog, when the spirit's scream had rent the air.

Now, here he was rooted to the spot, unable to abandon his brother, but certain they had little other hope. "Damnit, Dean," he cursed into the darkness. He knew exactly what the hunter would want him to do, hell, it's what he himself would want if their positions were reversed, but knowing it and doing were too far different things.

Poised on his toes, ready to rush to the rescue, Sam waited anxiously for some small sign that Sara and Dean were okay. At last, he forced himself into action. The continued quiet was as good a sign as any and really he'd long ago run out of options. Forcing his reluctant feet to carry him toward the ever-brightening shaft of light, Sam turned his focus toward escaping.

As he stared up at the hole his brother had fallen through, Sam marveled at the older man's luck. Considering that the hunter had fallen at least fifteen feet, it was a wonder he hadn't at the very least broken anything. Then again, snorted Sam to himself, if his stubborn brother had broken anything in the fall, Sam would be the last one to know. Dean had never been exactly forthcoming about injuries sustained on the job. In fact, the green-eyed man had made denial something of an art form, at least as far as his own body was concerned.

Now, if it had been Sam that had fallen, rather than his hypocritical brother, he had little doubt there would have been neck braces, helicopter rides and at the very least a lot of fussing involved. Dean had long ago become the master of double standards.

Taking only a moment to assess the distance, Sam quickly turned from the opening and began to scour the long tunnel for something he could use to lever himself out. Given his height, it shouldn't be too hard. There were times in this job, especially anytime crawling was involved, when his six foot plus frame quickly became a liability. Luckily this wasn't one of those times.

It didn't hurt that the mine was littered with support beams. Earlier, the few times he'd allowed himself to consider it, the sight of the fallen wooden supports had left him feeling apprehensive. As he'd followed his brother through the dark, he'd found it hard to push away thoughts of cave-ins and being buried alive. However, now, considering the fact that these same beams would be his ticket out of here, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, even as he began to drag his first length of wood across the hard-packed earth toward the opening.

The task, while physically tolling, did little to occupy his mind, leaving him to conjure up more and more horrific images of what might be happening to his brother and Sara. As he dug his fingers under the end of a particularly heavy column, he forced himself to push the images away. Instead, he focused on what he needed most from the trunk of the Chevy. Muscles straining, he drug the beam over to the opening and began to refine his list of supplies.

Sam drug an arm across his brow wiping away the sweat that was making its way down his lean face. Muscle sore and soaking with perspiration, the young hunter paused for a moment to take a couple deep breaths. With the hardest part of the job still ahead, he groaned as he carefully clenched and unclenched his fists. Tomorrow, provided they all survived, he had little doubt he'd spend a large part of the day having splinters dug out of his hands.

Unable to do anything about the state of his hands, Sam ignored the pain and set about constructing a platform. It took the shaggy-haired hunter the better part of ten minutes, and the skin from, what felt like every one of his knuckles, to complete his makeshift pyramid. Needing only one more thing, Sam grabbed up the five foot length of wood he'd found earlier and gave it a quick once over. Unlike many of the scraps he'd found and discarded, the wood still felt solid, with no visible signs of rot.

Confident he'd be able to reach the lip of the hole now, Sam carefully scrabbled to the top of the pile with his staff in hand. He was glad to find the whole mess felt fairly stable beneath his heavy boots. Conscious of every moment that passed, Sam tilted his face toward the sunshine that was now pouring into the hole and took a deep breath. With a quick prayer, he stretched up, the length of wood in his hands. As carefully as he could, he maneuvered the staff up through the hole and then maneuvered it so it lay across the opening.

As he stared up at his makeshift pull up bar, he couldn't help but wonder if it was long enough. If he'd miscalculated then as soon as he put his weight on the beam, the ground surrounding the hole would collapse. However, without the beam, he'd have nothing to pull himself out with. The sides of the opening would do little more than crumble if he tried to climb his way out.

Left without much choice, Sam gave a tiny jump, reaching out for support. Pain radiated up Sam's hands, as his skin snagged on the splintered wood. He ignored his first instinct, which was urging him to let go, and instead adjusted his grip. With one last pain-filled groan, Sam pulled himself up.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

888

Dean lifted his head, ignoring the twinge of pain that flared in his neck, and took stock of the situation.

Jack's warm weight, pressed against his side, was a welcome feeling given their current circumstances. "You okay, bud?" Dean rasped as he used the faint glow that lit the corridor to give the dog a quick once over. Despite the layer of coal dust and dirt covering the beast, turning his shaggy coat nearly black, the big dog's tail thumped contentedly on the corridor floor. Satisfied he was as good as could be, considering the circumstances; Dean focused his attention on Sara.

Unsurprisingly, the widow looked the worse for wear. A fresh cut on her temple, sluggishly trickling blood down her face, made it clear she'd hit her head in the fall. Given the swelling surrounding the wound, there was little surprise that Sara was unconscious. The hunter winced, in sympathy, as he carefully prodded the lump. He couldn't help but hope she remained out for the count, at least until they were out of their current nightmare and had access to some painkillers.

"Damn, you're a mess," he muttered as he trailed a lone finger down the grime coating her face. Filthy didn't even come close to covering just how dirty Sara was. Blood from her wounds had snaked its way down her cheeks, mixing with coal dust and dirt leaving her barely recognizable. He couldn't imagine he'd fared much better, given the spirit's penchant for gale force winds.

A quick glance about the corridor showed that Casper had, thankfully, yet to reappear. If Dean wanted to play devil's advocate, he could figure Sam had most likely only just managed to get free of the mine. Even considering his brother's giraffe-like legs, the younger hunter would need to hike back up the embankment, grab the gear and to haul ass back to the mineshaft.

"Best guess, forty-five minutes," Dean muttered.

The idea of trying to keep Sara alive for the next forty-five minutes was daunting at best. Even if, by some miracle, the spirit didn't come back, there was still her injuries and exposure to the elements to consider.

As if he could sense Dean's inner turmoil, Jack nosed closer to the hunter and plopped his big square head down on his jean-clad leg. Even in the dim light, he could read the imploring look in the dog's big brown eyes. "I know," he said on a sigh as he thrust one of his hands into the soft fur that encircled Jack's neck. A low happy sound rumbled deep in Jack's chest, even as heat from his body began to radiate up Dean's hand, making the hunter realize just how cold it was.

The ground they sat upon, was a mixture of rock and dirt, pounded down by countless machines and feet during the mine's heyday. Constant trickles of water ran down the walls forming puddles and in general adding to the cold that came from being miles underground.

Happy to have something to do, even if it was only a stopgap measure, Dean settled himself against the damp cave wall, and drew Sara carefully into his arms. The dog waited only until he had the brunette settled on his lap before he squeezed in close, his big head lying across Sara's hips. The icy feel of Sara's still form was quickly countered by Jack's radiant heating. Sitting as he was, with Jack acting like a space heater, it wasn't hard to believe the big dog's ancestors were in rescue work.

Despite the futility of the gesture, Dean then dug out a slightly crumbled bandana and dipped it into one of the nearby pools. Carefully wringing out the water, he began to wipe away the worst of the gore. It ate at him that this was the most he could offer her. Her broken and abused body deserved more than a slightly questionable handkerchief and a puddle of stagnant water.

As his hands ghosted over her chilled skin, he forced himself to focus on the good. For better or worse, they were together. He would hold onto that thought as he waited to see who showed up first, Sammy or Sara's beau.

888

Sam lay panting on the cold ground for only a moment before he pushed his exhausted body upright. Despite the fact that he wanted little more than to lie down for about a week, preferably somewhere warm, he forced himself to get moving. With Sara and his brother trapped inside the mine, every second literally meant the difference between life and death.

As he began to ascend the hill, his destination the sound of the highway above him, he refused to consider the fact that it might already be too late. No matter the couple's chances, Sam wasn't about to give up on them.

"Come on," he muttered as the ground suddenly grew steeper, causing his legs to protest as he refused to slacken his pace.

It was only a moment later, when the grade grew so steep he had no chance but to slow as he scrabbled for purchase. Now practically climbing, he was heartened, as the sounds of the highway grew louder.

At last, the brush that clung tenaciously to the embankment thinned, as did the pines rimming the roadway, allowing Sam his first glimpse of the highway. In the first bit of luck they'd had so far, the trip from the sinkhole to the road took no more than fifteen minutes. Nearly thirty minutes less than he'd assumed. Buoyed by the break, Sam jumped the dull grey guardrail and began trotting toward the dark shadow that waited patiently only five hundred feet ahead. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy to see his brother's 'other woman'.

With a snort, Sam had to admit the last time was probably last week, given the brothers' penchant for getting into trouble. Toss in the widow's own propensity for danger and it began to seem like they were always in some kind of mess.

As he neared the car, he focused his attention on the bright yellow paper that flapped rapidly in the breeze thrown off by passing cars. Recognizing the slip for an abandoned car warning, Sam grabbed the sheet out from under the windshield wiper with a grimace. He couldn't help but feel a bit thankful that he'd come back to the car alone. If his brother had been with him, Sam would have had to hear hours of grumbled complaints over the sanctity of his car. That he could have ignored. However, he'd never get back the time lost listening to Dean apologize to the Chevy for being left on the side of the road.

Overall, it would be best if his brother never knew his car had come within twenty-four hours notice of being towed.

Once at the car, Sam had one panicked moment in which he couldn't find the keys. Convinced his brother had them, the young hunter actually broke into a sweat as he patted down his jean pockets in search of the elusive keychain. At last, key in hand, he threw open the trunk and set about grabbing everything he knew he'd need, plus a couple items he tossed in just in case. Bundled into two easily managed duffels, he took only a moment to lock the trunk before he was on the move again. All in all, he figured it couldn't have taken him more than ten minutes to gather the gear.

With the car, now behind him, he began to run along the shoulder, the two bags balanced easily at his sides. Feeling overly conspicuous, and really not in the mood to share what was in the bags with any police officer that might be cruising by, Sam jumped the guardrail at his earliest opportunity and began to stumble his way down the embankment.

TBC

888

Dean lifted his head, ignoring the twinge of pain that flared in his neck, and took stock of the situation.

Jack's warm weight, pressed against his side, was a welcome feeling given their current circumstances. "You okay, bud?" Dean rasped as he used the faint glow that lit the corridor to give the dog a quick once over. Despite the layer of coal dust and dirt covering the beast, turning his shaggy coat nearly black, the big dog's tail thumped contentedly on the corridor floor. Satisfied he was as good as could be, considering the circumstances; Dean focused his attention on Sara.

Unsurprisingly, the widow looked the worse for wear. A fresh cut on her temple, sluggishly trickling blood down her face, made it clear she'd hit her head in the fall. Given the swelling surrounding the wound, there was little surprise that Sara was unconscious. The hunter winced, in sympathy, as he carefully prodded the lump. He couldn't help but hope she remained out for the count, at least until they were out of their current nightmare and had access to some painkillers.

"Damn, you're a mess," he muttered as he trailed a lone finger down the grime coating her face. Filthy didn't even come close to covering just how dirty Sara was. Blood from her wounds had snaked its way down her cheeks, mixing with coal dust and dirt leaving her barely recognizable. He couldn't imagine he'd fared much better, given the spirit's penchant for gale force winds.

A quick glance about the corridor showed that Casper had, thankfully, yet to reappear. If Dean wanted to play devil's advocate, he could figure Sam had most likely only just managed to get free of the mine. Even considering his brother's giraffe-like legs, the younger hunter would need to hike back up the embankment, grab the gear and to haul ass back to the mineshaft.

"Best guess, forty-five minutes," Dean muttered.

The idea of trying to keep Sara alive for the next forty-five minutes was daunting at best. Even if, by some miracle, the spirit didn't come back, there was still her injuries and exposure to the elements to consider.

As if he could sense Dean's inner turmoil, Jack nosed closer to the hunter and plopped his big square head down on his jean-clad leg. Even in the dim light, he could read the imploring look in the dog's big brown eyes. "I know," he said on a sigh as he thrust one of his hands into the soft fur that encircled Jack's neck. A low happy sound rumbled deep in Jack's chest, even as heat from his body began to radiate up Dean's hand, making the hunter realize just how cold it was.

The ground they sat upon, was a mixture of rock and dirt, pounded down by countless machines and feet during the mine's heyday. Constant trickles of water ran down the walls forming puddles and in general adding to the cold that came from being miles underground.

Happy to have something to do, even if it was only a stopgap measure, Dean settled himself against the damp cave wall, and drew Sara carefully into his arms. The dog waited only until he had the brunette settled on his lap before he squeezed in close, his big head lying across Sara's hips. The icy feel of Sara's still form was quickly countered by Jack's radiant heating. Sitting as he was, with Jack acting like a space heater, it wasn't hard to believe the big dog's ancestors were in rescue work.

Despite the futility of the gesture, Dean then dug out a slightly crumbled bandana and dipped it into one of the nearby pools. Carefully wringing out the water, he began to wipe away the worst of the gore. It ate at him that this was the most he could offer her. Her broken and abused body deserved more than a slightly questionable handkerchief and a puddle of stagnant water.

As his hands ghosted over her chilled skin, he forced himself to focus on the good. For better or worse, they were together. He would hold onto that thought as he waited to see who showed up first, Sammy or Sara's beau.

888

Sam lay panting on the cold ground for only a moment before he pushed his exhausted body upright. Despite the fact that he wanted little more than to lie down for about a week, preferably somewhere warm, he forced himself to get moving. With Sara and his brother trapped inside the mine, every second literally meant the difference between life and death.

As he began to ascend the hill, his destination the sound of the highway above him, he refused to consider the fact that it might already be too late. No matter the couple's chances, Sam wasn't about to give up on them.

"Come on," he muttered as the ground suddenly grew steeper, causing his legs to protest as he refused to slacken his pace.

It was only a moment later, when the grade grew so steep he had no chance but to slow as he scrabbled for purchase. Now practically climbing, he was heartened, as the sounds of the highway grew louder.

At last, the brush that clung tenaciously to the embankment thinned, as did the pines rimming the roadway, allowing Sam his first glimpse of the highway. In the first bit of luck they'd had so far, the trip from the sinkhole to the road took no more than fifteen minutes. Nearly thirty minutes less than he'd assumed. Buoyed by the break, Sam jumped the dull grey guardrail and began trotting toward the dark shadow that waited patiently only five hundred feet ahead. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy to see his brother's 'other woman'.

With a snort, Sam had to admit the last time was probably last week, given the brothers' penchant for getting into trouble. Toss in the widow's own propensity for danger and it began to seem like they were always in some kind of mess.

As he neared the car, he focused his attention on the bright yellow paper that flapped rapidly in the breeze thrown off by passing cars. Recognizing the slip for an abandoned car warning, Sam grabbed the sheet out from under the windshield wiper with a grimace. He couldn't help but feel a bit thankful that he'd come back to the car alone. If his brother had been with him, Sam would have had to hear hours of grumbled complaints over the sanctity of his car. That he could have ignored. However, he'd never get back the time lost listening to Dean apologize to the Chevy for being left on the side of the road.

Overall, it would be best if his brother never knew his car had come within twenty-four hours notice of being towed.

Once at the car, Sam had one panicked moment in which he couldn't find the keys. Convinced his brother had them, the young hunter actually broke into a sweat as he patted down his jean pockets in search of the elusive keychain. At last, key in hand, he threw open the trunk and set about grabbing everything he knew he'd need, plus a couple items he tossed in just in case. Bundled into two easily managed duffels, he took only a moment to lock the trunk before he was on the move again. All in all, he figured it couldn't have taken him more than ten minutes to gather the gear.

With the car, now behind him, he began to run along the shoulder, the two bags balanced easily at his sides. Feeling overly conspicuous, and really not in the mood to share what was in the bags with any police officer that might be cruising by, Sam jumped the guardrail at his earliest opportunity and began to stumble his way down the embankment.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Jess, stop! Jessica Marie, you stop right there or so help me I'll..." Sara threatened, her words trailing off as she watched her four-year-old's bare bottom streak out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Unsurprisingly, the little girl kept going without a backward glance. Obviously, Sara's vague threat wasn't enough to stop Jessie from playing a rousing game of 'catch me'.

More than ready for this day to be over, Sara gained her feet with a groan, and grabbed a waiting towel. She wasn't sure when Jess's quick clean up had became a half-hour bath, complete with bubbles and toys, but now she was paying for it. The little girl, already up past her bed time, was so wound up it was going take some major cajoling to get her to do anything.

"Come on, Jess, come on out," Sara called out as she followed the line of wet footprints that led from the bathroom down the hallway. As she passed the steps leading downstairs, she found she could at least rule out searching the first floor, it was obvious Jess had headed for the master bedroom. At the entrance of her bedroom, tears sprang into Sara's eyes as she surveyed the room.

Earlier today, distracted and frustrated by the changes her editor had suggested for her current manuscript, she had unthinkingly given the kids permission to build a fort in her bedroom. Now, as she faced the wreckage that had once been her haven, she couldn't help the slight sob that threatened to become a full-on crying jag.

Sheets had been strung across the room, hung with what looked like red yarn. Pillows, stolen from every corner of the house, were piled up on the floor and something, looking suspiciously like feathers, now coated every surface. She took a step, white fluff swirling at her feet, moving around the king sized bed only to find, Jack, sprawled across the antique quilt she'd received as a wedding present years before.

Exhausted by the weight of her life, Sara sank to the floor while tears began to make tracks down her cheeks.

Judging by the state of her bedroom, this day from hell, begun with too little sleep now looked as if it was going to end that way as well. From the boys missing the bus because they were too busy arguing, to the rain that had turned the yard into a swamp and left their shaggy-haired dog filthy, to Jess' refusal to nap and her editors' inept attempts to re-define Sara's current story today had been a day that would have bested even the most perfect of moms.

Sara was the first one to admit she was far from perfect. However, usually she managed better than this. As a single mother raising three kids bad days weren't really that rare of an occurrence. Long ago, she'd learned that rolling with the punches beat the hell out of trying to control every little aspect of her life. Still every now and again things got the better of her.

"Mom?" Jessica questioned as she crept out from her hiding place beneath the bed.

Not wanting to upset her youngest, Sara brushed a hand across her eyes and fixed her features into a weak approximation of a smile. "There you are, babe."

"I'm sorry I hid, I didn't mean to make you cry." The little girl stated as she plopped herself down onto Sara's lap.

Sara's heart stuttered as Jessie, damp and smelling like strawberries, wrapped her sturdy little arms around her neck in a fierce hug. Needing the hug more than she'd admit to herself, Sara choked back her tears and returned Jessie's embrace. "You didn't make me cry, sweetie. I'm just having a bad day."

Pulling back, the blue-eyed little girl gently wiped away a trace of a tear and regarded Sara intently. "Is it 'cause Mikey got mud on the rug?"

Blissfully unaware of the mud up until that moment, Sara silently added rug cleaning to her to-do list and shook her head. "Naw, it's just been one of those days."

Always sensitive to the moods of those around her, Jess's eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled slightly. "I had a bad day too," she stated as the tears began to tip over her long blond eyelashes.

Careful to hide any sign of amusement at her daughter's ability to cry on demand, Sara asked seriously, "You did, what happened?"

Expecting the usual prattle of big brothers and their teasing, Sara was instead surprised when Jessica burst out, "Dean didn't call and he promised."

It was in that moment that everything became clear to Sara. Though she did her best not to place too many expectations on the hunter, she relied on the fact that if he said he would call, he did. "He was supposed to call today?" Sara asked, she honestly didn't like to keep track, waiting for his call only seemed to make their days apart go slower.

Without answering, Jess was up and off her lap in a flash only to disappear out the bedroom door. Certain her daughter would be back, Sara gained her feet and began to set the room to rights. As she worked folding blankets and sheets she thought back to the last time she'd seen Dean. Now that Jessica had mentioned it, Sara was certain her daughter was right. They should have heard from the Winchesters by now.

"Here look," Jessie called out as she flew back into the room, her wall calendar gripped in one hand and a nightgown in the other.

Sara couldn't help but grin as she accepted the calendar from her daughter and watched Jess struggle to put on the gown. Half tempted to help, she nonetheless held back, knowing that any interference on her part would earn her a sharp rebuke from the four year old. While still a baby in so many ways, Jessica took things like getting dressed on her own as serious business.

The calendar, a freebie from their local bank, had been Dean's idea. Despite the fact that it hung in Jessica's room, it was for all three kids. Each time the Winchesters loaded up the black Chevy, Dean would carefully mark down what days he would call to check in. The appointed days were marked in black marker by a big W. Each morning Jimmy crossed off a day, so even Jessica could easily tell when the Winchesters were due to check in. Since they'd begun using the calendar, Dean had missed only one phone call. That one time, Sam had done the duty, barely getting the call in before the kids went to bed to inform Sara the green-eyed hunter had, in Sam's words, 'taken a bit of a bump' and was getting checked out.

Now in light of the glaring W that marked today's date, Sara's throat closed up and her heartbeat accelerated.

"See, Dean was supposed to call today," Jess insisted from the depths of her little mermaid nightgown.

Unconsciously, Sara reached over and tugged the hem of the gown down even as she worked to reassure the child. "I'm sure they're okay, they're probably just running a little late."

The mulish expression that overtook Jessica's features, a look that mirrored her late husband at his most stubborn, showed that the little girl refused to be soothed. "He's never late."

Caught between her own fears and those of her child's, Sara insisted, "They'll call."

Jessica crossed her arms and stated, "Well I'm not going to bed until he does."

"Who's not going to bed?" Jimmy asked as he walked into the bedroom, his younger brother trailing behind him.

"We're not, not until Dean calls," Jess said even as she grabbed the calendar back from Sara's limp hand and jumped up onto the big bed.

"We're not?" asked Michael as he dropped to the ground next to Jack and curled into the dog's side.

Determined to cut off the mutiny before it grew, Sara shook her head. "Oh, no, missy, you're going to bed. You all need to sleep, tomorrow's a school day. If Dean calls while you're in bed, I'll wake you."

"What if something's wrong?" Michael asked.

Sara's heart broke at the sight of her normally rough and ready middle child looking so serious. It wasn't lost on her that he'd curled up with Jack, drawing comfort from the big dog.

"The boys can take care of themselves," Sara insisted even as she avoided Jimmy's sharp gaze. Her oldest son knew too much about what Sam and Dean did for a living and it had become harder and harder for her to convince him that the brother's weren't in danger when they were at 'work'. "Now, off to bed."

With a groan, all three made for the bedroom door, only Jess pausing by the entrance to shoot one last entreating look toward Sara.

"Go, Jess."

"I'm going," Jess groaned as she followed the boys out of the room.

Refusing to listen to the insidious voice in her head that kept detailing everything that could have gone wrong with the Winchester's current hunt, Sara finished straightening the room up. At the sound of a footstep behind her, she turned in exasperation and snapped, "I said bed, now."

"I thought I might get cleaned up first, but if you want to skip ahead to bed, I'm all for it."

Tears, already so close to the surface, flooded Sara's eyes as she took in the sight of Dean leaning in the doorframe of her bedroom, a lazy grin on his handsome face. "Dean," she said with a sigh even as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

Then he was there, his strong arms wrapping around her as he pulled her into an embrace. "Don't cry," he said, the emotion in his voice making it sound more like pleading than an order.

Unable to stop now that she'd started, Sara managed to stutter, "Not, you, me. Just happy." Though she was pretty sure her voice had lacked conviction on that last statement, she had been honest. Just having him there, holding her close was enough.

Smart enough not to argue with the statement, Dean just snugged his arms a bit tighter and hung on while she set about soaking his flannel shirt. As the warmth of his body and the strength of his embrace eased the last of her worry, tension snaked out of Sara leaving her feeling limp. In one smooth motion, the hunter slipped one arm behind her and swiftly lifted her into his arms. Two steps brought him to the side of the bed where he moved to lower her to the mattress.

Instead, Sara hung on refusing to part with him for even a moment. With a chuckle, he reassured her, "I'm not leaving, I was just going to kick off my boots."

Ignoring his excuse, Sara kept hold of him. At last, he settled into the mattress beside her, her head on his shoulder and his feet hanging off the edge of the bed. As the day's concerns dropped from her shoulders, Sara snuggled into Dean's side happily breathing in a scent that was unique to him. Made up of leather, gun oil and a hint of soap, she couldn't help but feel as if she were the one to come home at last. With the sound of Dean's heart beating steadily in her ear, she at last slipped into sleep.

888

A chill wafted across Sara's arms, making her reach for the blanket that rested at the foot of the bed. As she moved, a shaft of pain pierced her skull causing her to cry out. Without thought, she shifted, trying to alleviate the agony. Instead of relief, she was hit with another wave of pain, this time from her leg. Confused and hurting she called out, "Dean?"

His name echoed around her with a hollow note that she found disturbing to say the least. As she tried, and failed, to pierce the surrounding darkness, more and more sensations began to register. The lack of light was foremost. Thanks to two strategically placed nightlights, her bedroom was normally never completely dark.

Also, she was no longer sprawled across her big bed, but instead lay cradled against Dean's chest. Only the certainty that it was indeed Dean kept her from completely freaking out.

Wherever she was, at least she wasn't alone. The steady thrum of his heartbeat helped to calm her racing pulse.

"God, you scared me," Dean growled, his arms almost painfully tightening for a split second.

Still fighting the fog that was clouding her thoughts, Sara concentrated on the sound of his voice. Raspy with fatigue or worry, maybe both Sara acknowledged to herself, his words trembled slightly.

"Where?" she asked, surprised by the breathy sound of her own voice.

"You don't remember? The accident?"

Her concentration, which up until that point had been focused more on the pain she was in than on what had occurred, zeroed in on his last words. "Accident? The kids?"

At her strident question, Dean's work roughened hand caressed the side of her face as he reassured her, "The kids are fine, you were alone. You don't remember anything?"

Despite his calm words, Sara could easily detect the hint of panic in his question. Determined to ease his worries she concentrated on the feel of his warm fingers tracing patterns on her cheek and relegated the pain she was in to the back of her mind. Forcing her mind to focus on his question she began to search for answers.

What she now recognized for the dream it was, her bedroom, that long ago night, was discarded and she worked to concentrate on the last "memory" she had. "The hotel? Down in Richmond. I missed the plane."

"Yup, you rented a car."

Memories of arguing flights with some nameless woman and flashes of the route she'd taken flittered through her mind as she worked out what had happened. "I hit Pennsylvania, was only an hour or so out when the car went over the side of the road."

"I was never more torn between being grateful and being scared shitless when we stumbled across the wreck and you weren't in it."

"I crawled out, the radio, it was doing funny things."

Even in the dark, Sara could easily imagine Dean nodding in agreement as he said, "There was a spirit; bastard ran you off the road."

As the pieces of the last couple hours began to fall into place, Sara almost began to wish she could forget what had happened. "Sammy?" she asked worry for the younger hunter bringing tears to her eyes.

"Got out, or at least I'm hoping he did."

Automatically, she worked to reassure Dean, "I'm sure he did."

"Yeah, well, if he did you can bet he's on his way back by now. All we have to do is sit back and wait for the calvary." The forced cheeriness in Dean's tone made it clear that Sara hadn't overestimated the danger they were in.

Just then there was a scraping sound followed by something cold and wet ghosting over her cheek. With a squeal that would have done any slasher-flick actress proud, Sara jumped, knocking her already throbbing head into Dean's rock solid chin.

"It's just Jack," Dean groaned as he gently rubbed the top of Sara's head. "Big brave dog, he's been trying to climb onto my lap ever since the lights went out."

Undeterred by Dean's harsh words, or Sara's lack of acknowledgement the big dog burrowed closer, his square head butting Sara none too gently in the chest. "You let him ride in your car?" Sara questioned even as she buried her freezing hands deep in the thick fur that surrounded his neck.

"Yeah, he and Sammy can be pretty persuasive when they turn those puppy dog eyes on me. Though, Sam might regret it when it comes time to haul him out of this hellhole."

Secure in the knowledge that neither Sam nor Dean would ever consider leaving Jack behind, Sara asked, "You said 'ever since the lights went out'. How long's it been?" Despite the fact that there was nothing to be seen, she couldn't help but glance about nervously. The darkness was unlike anything she'd ever encountered.

"About twenty minutes ago. You must have hit your head harder than I'd realized, I couldn't wake you up." Fear and frustration laced Dean's words.

Sara knew how hard it must have been for him, forced to sit in the darkness wondering when she would wake up, if it would be before the spirit showed and even worse if Sam was in trouble. The hunter didn't do waiting well.

"I'm okay now. Do you want to try and make it to the sink hole?" Sara couldn't help but hold her breath as she waited for his answer; truth be told she didn't know if she had enough strength to get back up.

As if he'd read her mind, or more likely her brave front wasn't quite as solid as she'd hoped, he answered, "No, we'll wait here. I can't carry you in the dark, and you're in no shape to walk."

"I can manage," Sara insisted, unable to admit that he was right.

"No, we'll wait."

Desperate to alleviate the grim tone in his voice, Sara teased weakly, "Well, however will we kill time. Alone, in the dark?" She followed the statement with a poor attempt to plant a kiss on his cheek. Instead, she misjudged the distance and the peck landed on the underside of his jaw.

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Sara's poor attempt to convince him she was good to keep moving only served to make the constant ache in Dean's chest grow. The widow, ever a game one, had been knocked around in more ways than he cared to imagine and yet here she was willing to keep going. Every time he was certain his respect for Sara couldn't get any higher, she went and outdid herself. The only problem was she never knew when to quit. "No, we'll wait," he replied.

"Well, however will we kill time? Alone in the dark?"

The brunette's softly spoken words barely registered, however the soft, hot, little kiss she pressed to the underside of his jaw felt like a brand; the fire that always raged just beneath the surface when he was with her, flared white hot at the widow's attempt at distraction. Leave it to her to know the best way to take his mind off the worries at hand. Unable to manage much more than a low throaty growl, Dean ran one calloused hand up the smooth column of her throat and took her chin firmly in hand. As he had no doubt she'd intended, thoughts of Sam' safety and their own chances of survival dropped from his mind at the first brush of his lips against hers. Careful to cause her no pain, he kept the pressure light, their lips just barely grazing at times, as he kissed her again and again.

He continued his gentle assault until Sara moaned, "More," her hands slipping to his jaw, she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Her eager response only served to heighten Dean's own need. With his focus completely centered on the feel of Sara's lips beneath his own and the soft little sighs that kept escaping her, the entire mine could have collapsed and he doubted he'd have noticed.

It was Jack, who finally ended the interlude with a well-placed swipe of his tongue.

"Guh, Jack," Dean cried out as he reared back, his arm coming up to wipe the slime off his face. "Damn dog," he complained even as he admitted to himself that getting carried away, given their current circumstances, probably wasn't the best idea.

"He's just jealous," Sara laughed as she settled against his chest once more.

"You'd think he'd be used to me by now," Dean complained as he ran a hand through Jack's fur.

"Actually, I meant jealous of me," Sara teased.

Dean was about to disagree with her, when Jack, encouraged by the hunter's attention, climbed even further onto his lap. A chuckle broke from him at Sara's indignant squawk as the dog tried his best to take her place.

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Sara couldn't help but smile at the low laugh that rumbled through Dean. Edging Jack out of her way, she returned her head to his chest and closed her eyes. She lay for one long moment, content to concentrate on nothing more than the steady thrum of Dean's heart. Memories of times past when she'd allowed that same sound to lull her to sleep, helped to keep her mind off the pain that radiated up from her leg.

As tension began to claim his body once more, she pushed away her exhaustion. "He'll be here soon," she offered weakly. She knew it wasn't much in the way of comfort, but she had little doubt that until the moment Sam showed up, there was little enough she could say that would make Dean feel better.

Dean's succinct, "I know," carried a wealth of meaning that Sara read easily.

It wasn't a lack of faith in his brother that was causing Dean's unease; it was more the lack of enforced inactivity that was the problem. Sitting around waiting for rescue wasn't exactly the hunter's forte.

Sara shifted slightly, guilt causing her stomach to clench, if it wasn't for her both brothers would have escaped and would even now be gearing up to destroy the spirit. Decision made, Sara enjoyed one last moment cradled in Dean's arms before she pushed away. "Let's go."

"Go?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Yeah, go. We might as well make it easier on Sam, maybe meet him halfway." Already sure of what he'd say, Sara gave him no time to argue. Instead, she pushed herself off his lap and got her good leg beneath her.

"Stop," Dean snapped, his hands coming out of the darkness to grip her arms.

Determined to do the right thing, Sara shook off his hold and heaved herself to her feet. At first, the pain was so great it threatened to buckle her good leg. Then slowly, but surely, she managed to get a grip on herself. For one long moment, she was able to focus on nothing more than staying on her feet.

"There," she sighed into the darkness at last.

As she stood, all of her weight balanced on her good leg, panic gripped her and squeezed tight. In the total darkness that surrounded her, she had no idea which way to move, which direction Dean now stood. In her haze of pain she'd even managed to lose the dog.

Tears began to pool in her eyes even as she choked out his name, "Dean?"

Out of the darkness, a solid pair of arms, slipped around her waist, pulling her close. Comforted by the contact, Sara gave a shaky laugh and leaned into the embrace. "Thought I'd lost you."

"Sara!"

Dean's sharp bark broke the silence and came not from the solid form she was leaning against, but instead from the darkness in front of her.

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The sight of the sinkhole was a welcome one indeed. Sam dropped to his knees a few feet from its edge and quickly began rifling through the contents of the bags he'd brought. Within minutes he had his supplies separated. Medical supplies, a couple flashlights, weapons, two blankets, water, and salt went into a backpack, while the climbing rope was left out. Conscious of every moment wasted, he slung the backpack on his back and began securing one end of the rope to a nearby tree. Confident that the rope would hold, Sam approached the edge of the opening.

His biggest concern, next to stumbling over his brother and Sara's lifeless bodies, was that the earth surrounding the hole would collapse making it nearly impossible to get in and out. As he began to ease himself down, he was grateful to find his fears were unfounded. The earth held firm, allowing him to kick his legs over the edge and slowly, hand over hand, lower himself into the dark pit.

As the darkness of the mine reached out and enveloped him, Sam held his breath until his feet hit firm ground. Once down he quickly untied the rope and shrugged off the pack. It took only a moment to find his flashlight and flick it on. As light lit the corridor, he couldn't help but feel disappointed that it was empty. He'd had vague hopes of finding his brother and Sara waiting for him.

More then ready to find them both, Sam quickly dug into his pack and removed Dean's favorite sawed-off shotgun. If anyone had asked, he'd chosen the weapon for its compact size; however, if he were honest with himself, he'd admit he'd also chosen it to feel closer to his brother. The fact that he'd run, rather than stay and fight by Dean's side, was eating him up. Intellectually he knew he had made the right decision, now if only his heart would agree.

Panic clawed at Sam's chest as he pushed himself to go faster despite his limited visibility. He was being careful to keep the light of his flashlight hooded; he had no desire to broadcast his presence for anything that might be lurking in the shadows. His plan, pathetic as it was, was to find Sara and Dean, get them on their feet, and get them out. Once Sara was safe, then the Winchesters could get a little payback.

Not that his brother would be content to wait, Dean was gonna want the ghost's proverbial head on a platter sooner rather than later. Sam couldn't say that he blamed him, thanks to the spirit, he had a bevy of bruises and more than enough reasons to want a bit of revenge himself.

Careful to watch his footing on the uneven ground, Sam kept up his pace until he found the last marker. The last turn should land him in Dean's lap. If only. Pressing his back against the rough stone wall, Sam shut off the flashlight and carefully eased around the corner.

He felt the difference in temperature immediately. Chills danced up and down his spine as he kept close the rough hewed wall. As he edged closer and closer to where he'd last seen his brother the cold grew, seeping into his lungs until every breath burned. The cold seemed to drag at him, sapping his will, and slowing him down.

888

Exasperation warred with admiration as Sara shook off his hold and gained her feet. Dean would have liked to imagine it as one smooth motion, but he had little doubt that the groans and gasping he heard was the widow's way of working through the pain. Given the abuse her body had taken in the last twenty-four hours he found it nothing short of a miracle that she even tried. Then again, no one could ever accuse Sara of being a quitter.

Her pride be damned, he was just about to reach out to her when her soft sigh broke the silence. "There."

With Jack's heavy body resting on his boot, and Sara on her feet, even temporarily, Dean began to feel as if they might stand a chance of making it out of their current nightmare. As he opened his mouth to give voice to the sentiment, a sudden draft blew across his face.

Icy and damp, the air was welcome at first as it drove away the overpowering stench of mildew and decay that permeated the mine. Dean took a couple of deep cleansing breaths, grateful for the fresh air even though it was cold enough to raise goosebumps on his bare skin. It was then he realized just how much the temperature in the shaft had fallen. This time the chill that snaked up his spine had nothing to do with the cold air.

"Dean?"

Sara's questioning voice focused his attention like nothing else could. Ready to respond to her slightly panicked quarry, Dean was instead cut off by Sara's soft sigh.

"I thought I'd lost you."

Understanding came too late to the elder Winchester as he called out to the widow, "Sara!"

Apparently, Jack was slow on the uptake as well. One minute the animal was leaning heavily against Dean's jean-clad leg and then he was gone, lost to the darkness as his deep bark began to echo through the mine. "Damn," Dean cursed, as his only ally left his side, leaving him well and truly alone.

While every inch of his body screamed for him to make a move, he forced himself to stillness, allowing only the shallowest of breaths. It took what felt like the longest minute of his life to pick out the muffled sounds of Sara struggling a few feet ahead and to the right of his location.

"Stop this, I'm not her!"

Coiled and poised to throw himself into the mix, Dean paused at Sara's strident words. The older woman was panting for breath, each rasp of air bringing a corresponding gasp of pain.

"I'm not Caroline."

"Please, Caro, I know you think I let you down, but I would give my life to keep you safe."

The ghost's pleading words and honest tone made it clear to Dean, no matter what the spirit had become since his death he at one time had truly loved his Caroline. Problem was, the ghost was now beyond reason, leaving the hunter no choice.

Careful to make no sound, he began to feel around with the toe of his boot, searching for the iron pickaxe he'd dropped earlier. The weapon wasn't much but it was better than nothing. At least it might buy them enough time for his brother to get back.

Sara, as if she understood Dean's need for time, began to plead, her voice cracking with pain and exhaustion, "Listen to me, you have to understand. My name is Sara, I have three kids, and I was injured in a car accident. Nobody hurt me."

Finally, just when he was certain he'd misjudged the dark tunnel, Dean's foot scraped over the wooden handle of the pick axe. Carefully, so as to not draw any attention to himself, he began to crouch down, his hand reaching for the weapon.

888

Sara was done; she'd long passed the point of what she could endure and was basically running on nothing more than stubbornness. She was loath to admit it, but the spirits cold clasp around her waist was really the only thing holding her up. She had little doubt that if it let go, she'd crash to the floor. The hardest thing to accept was the fact that if she hit the ground, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be getting up again.

She needed time, they all did. Time for Sam to return, time for Dean to execute the plan she could even now sense him working on, time for a miracle. Denial hadn't worked out the way she'd hoped so Sara decided to change up her game plan. Dean's continued silence could only mean he didn't want to draw attention to himself, Sara figured she had a sure fire plan to keep the spirit's focus solely on her.

"You're right. It's me, Caroline."

As soon as the lie was out of her mouth, the grip around her waist gentled, no longer restraining, but simply holding on. Sara took it as a positive sign and continued, "I need help, a doctor. They hurt me." Sara's voice faltered over the last line. Though she was merely playing along to appease the spirit, accusing Dean and Sam of hurting her was hard. Harder then she could have imagined.

"I'm so sorry, baby," the spirit crooned as he stroked one freezing hand down the side of her neck and followed the line of her arm.

"Not...your...fault," Sara intoned, trying her best not to pull away from its caress.

"It is. If I'd been there on time, they wouldn't have had the chance to hurt you. I'm so sorry."

This time, the spirit's pleading words registered. Guilt was a horrible thing to have to live with, that was a fact Sara knew first hand. She'd lived the last four years of her life wondering why she'd been spared when her husband hadn't.

"It wasn't your fault, it was just fate, or better still wrong place, wrong time. I've never blamed you." Even as Sara said the words, she hoped it was true, that it was just the capriciousness of fate that had left her children without a father. Better that then to think it was some grand plan and that their life together had never stood a chance.

"You don't blame me?" questioned the spirit as he shifted suddenly.

Sara could feel the cold length of his body as he faced her, his hands gripping both her arms. Even as the cold of his hands began to numb her skin, Sara felt a small tiny ray of hope. "No, I never blamed you."

Apparently, the spirit heard the conviction in her tone. With a satisfied sigh, his lips were suddenly pressed against her own in a quick hard kiss. Before she had a chance to react, though really what she could have done about it she didn't know, the spirit let go of her.

"You were always too good for me. But this time I'm going to protect you."

With these rather ominous words, the spirit was gone.

Now more afraid for the boys then she ever had been for herself, Sara called out, "Dean!"

888

Dean carefully hefted the weapon in his hand, testing its weight and getting a feel for the axe. As he did, he listened to Sara work to convince the ghost that she was in fact the creature's lost Caroline. Dean hated it. Unfortunately, he also knew it was safer for the widow if all her hard work paid off. Now he was stuck, the spirit was too close to Sara for Dean to risk attacking. He needed the ghost to step well away from her, he needed his brother to get back, hell, if he was wishing he might as well go whole hog and wish them all out of this pit.

A moment later, Dean got his wish. He didn't need Sara's gasping cry to give him warning. He'd know this moment was coming ever since he'd first encountered the spirit; and after everything the creature had put Sara through, Dean had to admit, he was going to enjoy kicking its phantom ass.

His only warning was a draft of cold. It was the only warning he needed as he swung out and to the left of his body, the iron pickaxe cutting cleaning through the spirit leaving a faint bluish light that quickly dissipated. Having slowed the spirit, Dean then took four steps forward, and called out, "Sara?"

"Here," was her only reply.

Dean wasn't all that surprised that her cry came from somewhere near his feet. He'd known all along she was done in. "Stay put, you here me?"

"Be safe."

The familiar refrain helped to warm him more than any revenge-fueled fury. 'Be safe', two simple words that carried with them a wealth of worry and love; the same two words that Sara sent him off with every time he had to leave her side. Determined to end this thing and get them all free, he tightened his grip and waited.

Then, a blast of cold announced the spirit's arrival before he had time to fully manifest. Without wasting a moment, Dean swung blindly at the cold air pocket that was forming. Again, there was that same bluish light and then the corridor warmed slightly. "Sammy'll be here soon," he reassured Sara even as he swung in a slow circle.

This time he was too late. The chill, his only warning, formed so fast, he couldn't get the axe around quick enough. As something hard and ice cold slammed into him, he put all his efforts into holding onto his only weapon. With a grunt, he flew across the corridor, slamming into the stone wall of the tunnel. By some miracle, he was able to keep the axe in his hands, but he was so stunned by the blow he was unable to raise the weapon in self-defense before the spirit was on top of him.

As the phantom's iron grip encircled Dean's throat, his only thought was for Sara. Left unprotected in the depths of the mine, she'd never be able to get out on her own, even if she did managed to evade the spirit that seemed dead set on keeping her. Unwilling to release his tenuous grip on the splintered handle, he struggled feebly to get free.

As a low roar began to build inside his head, and his lungs started to burn from a lack of oxygen, Dean found he couldn't even manage the littlest bit of resistance. Instead, his mind began to wander, his thoughts jumping erratically. Flashes of his life, his parents long gone, his brother from infancy to adulthood and most of all pictures of his life with Sara bombarded him, stealing what little fight he had left in him.

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More than the voices that echoed around him, it was Jack that led Sam down the corridor toward where, from the sounds of it, both his brother and Sara were fighting for their lives. He couldn't help but be thankful for the wide warm back that his left hand now rested on. Before the big brute had showed up, nearly scaring Sam to death, he'd assumed he was much closer to the older hunter and the widow then he apparently was. The sound of Sara trying to stall the spirit had come through so clearly, had he followed his instincts, he would have given away his hand much too early and put himself and everyone else into even more jeopardy.

A low growl, the first sound the dog had made since finding Sam, issued forth from the big brute, sending a chill down the hunter's spine. That the animal would suddenly risk exposure scared him more than the sudden silence that filled the cavern. "Dean," Sam barked as he flicked on his light, flooding the tunnel with a strong yellow light.

Sam was pretty certain he'd never forget the sight that met his eyes as he squinted into the sudden brightness. There on the ground only feet in front of him the spirit had his hands locked around his brother's throat, Dean's body lay unmoving on the stone floor. Sara, her eyes nearly shut against the light, knelt on one good leg, her splinted leg braced awkwardly to the side, had the pickaxe in her hand and was in the process of raising it over her head.

"Sara, now!" Sam ordered, fear for his brother pushing away all other concerns.

The widow didn't need to be told twice, with a humming sound that seemed absurdly loud in the echoing tunnel, she brought the axe down with all the strength she could muster.

As he watched the weapon sliced cleanly through the spirit, making the ghost dissipate in a flare of blue light, and arced toward Dean's now exposed torso. Unable to remain a spectator, Sam dropped the shotgun with a clatter and dove forward, landing hard on and only just managing to get his hand under the shaft of the axe. Pain radiated up Sam's already much abused hand as he stopped the blow before it could do any damage.

He lay across Dean, his eyes seeking out Sara. The widow swayed once as she let go of the wooden handle, "Thanks, Sammy," she breathed just before she collapsed in a heap, her bad leg twisted beneath her.

Ignoring the widow for the moment, Sam skittered backward grabbing both the shotgun and the flashlight he'd tossed in his rush to reach his brother. "Jack, watch," Sam commanded, confident the dog would be able to give him a warning. Ever obedient, at least when it served his purpose, the dog stood at attention over Sara, his big paws only inches from her head as he kept watch.

Perimeter secured, Sam allowed his focus to rest on his brother. Dean's shallow breath wheezed in and out of his lungs in a way that truly frightened the younger hunter. As quickly and as thoroughly as he could, Sam ran a quick check of his brother, reassuring himself that his throat was the worst and then set about trying to wake the older hunter. "Dean," Sam urged as he gently shook Dean's shoulder.

As his brother remained unconscious, Sam began to panic. "Dean, wake up!" This time, Sam allowed all the panic and fear he was feeling to seep into his voice. He knew there was nothing that Dean responded better to then a scared little brother.

With his head bent over Dean's chest, watching the steady rise and fall of his brother breathing, Sam missed the flicker of movement that would have given him warning. Instead, all the sudden he felt something clasp him on the back, dragging him toward Dean's chest. Looking into Dean's bright green gaze, Sam allowed the awkward one-armed hug and breathed a sigh of relief.

"You scared me for a minute there, Dude," he reproached as he backed slightly away, and offered Dean a hand to pull himself upright with.

The other hunter took the help, without argument and rasped, "I scared you, where the hell were you before this thing tried to make me its bitch."

Sam chuckled weakly and shrugged, "I know how you like to handle things on your own. I didn't want to step on your toes."

Dean winced as he gently massaged the vivid bruises that were forming under his chin. "Next time feel free to jump in earlier."

"Will do," Sam quipped as he gained his feet.

He watched as his brother didn't even bother to get to his feet, instead he crawled to Sara's side and carefully rearranged her limbs into a less awkward position. As Dean carefully caressed Sara's face, Sam turned his back giving the couple a moment of privacy. At last, he interrupted, knowing they were pushing their luck. "Any chance you can handle the shotgun," Sam asked as he searched the corridor for any signs of their unwelcome friend.

Dean didn't speak, instead he gained his feet with a rusty groan and held his hand out for the weapon.

"Good, I cordoned off the tunnel up near the sink hole so we'll be safe there. I left the pack there too so we'll be able to get you some water for that throat and blankets for Sara." As he spoke, he moved to Sara's side and carefully knelt down. Despite the fact that she showed no sign of waking up, Sam tried his best to be gentle as he picked the widow up and cradled her against his chest. She didn't make a sound, as they started down the corridor with Jack in the lead and Dean taking up the rear.

They were nearly to the salt line when the spirit attacked once more. This time they were prepared. Dean fired off a round of rock salt neatly taking out the ghost in one shot. Not even the deafening sound of the weapon discharging was enough to wake Sara, Sam unused to silence from both the widow and his brother, found himself babbling.

"We'd better call in an ambulance. We need to get Sara help as quickly as we can. We're just not equipped well enough to deal with possible hypothermia and her leg. Plus getting Jack out without a winch is going to be a real bitch," Sam prattled as he carefully stepped over the salt line he could clearly see from the noon light that poured through the sink hole.

Expecting an argument from his brother, Sam began listing all the reasons why help was needed even as he settled Sara onto the blanket that Dean had pulled from one of the duffels. "We'll just tell them the truth, or at least our version. We saw Sara's car go off the road, stopped to help, only to stumble across the sinkhole. You two were hurt when you fell, but I managed to get out for supplies and to call for help."

Accepting the second blanket his brother handed him, Sam carefully wrapped Sara's battered frame. "How we're going to explain Jack in the hole without four broken legs is going to be harder, but I'm sure we'll manage."

With Sara settled, Sam got to his feet and bypassed his brother. Going to back to the bag he quickly pulled a bottle of water from its depths and held it out to the older hunter with a stern expression.

Dean's expression was amused as he accepted the drink, drank deeply from it and then settled himself at the widow's side.

Surprised by Dean's lack of argument, Sam moved toward the rope that hung into the pit. "I'll get help and be right back."

The elder Winchester flapped a hand at him and then settled back, to offer Sara what body heat he could. Jack promptly settled into Sara's other side and then glanced up at Sam with what could only be interpreted as canine impatience. "Woof," the dog urged.

Needing no further encouragement, Sam climbed carefully up the precarious pile of scraps and used the rope to pull himself the rest of the way out. Still unsure about leaving the couple behind, he ducked his head back into the hole intending to reassure Dean that he'd hurry.

"Just go, Sam," was his brother's brisk order, before he could utter another word.

Needing no more encouragement then that, Sam got to his feet and started up the hill at a brisk pace. As he moved, he felt the flakes of the winter's first snow brush against his cheeks.

TBC

Chapter End Notes:

Thanks as always for reading ;) Kel


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Sam carefully eased open the door and entered the room on silent feet. Normally he wouldn't have risked disturbing the room's occupants, but he knew he'd never get any sleep if he didn't check up on his small charges. Walking carefully toward the bunk beds on the far wall, he took a moment to appreciate just how peaceful and angelic the kids looked.

No one seeing them now, piled as they were in Jimmy's bottom bunk bed, would ever believe that they were the same kids that had spent the day running him ragged.

Michael, his dark shaggy hair in desperate need of a haircut, slept against the wall. His favorite stuffed toy clenched tightly in his fist. Sam knew for a fact that the eight year old hadn't slept with the animal in nearly a year. The hunter could only imagine that the last couple of days had left the kid seeking comfort wherever he could.

Missing their Mom, was the main reason the kids were all sharing a bed. Earlier, when Jess had begun to sob, begging to see Sara, Sam had caved. Letting the little girl share a bed with her older brothers had been the only bribe he could offer that would calm the four-year –old. Though her older brothers had protested, pretending they couldn't be bothered with her, they'd given in with very little actual fuss. Sam had a feeling that both Jim and Mike were glad for the distraction.

Now as Sam stood watching Jessie sleep, curled up between 'her boys', her mouth slightly open and her wubby clasped tight to her chest, he knew he'd done the right thing.

Apparently, the oldest Powers agreed. Jim had taken up the outside position, and was facing his siblings. Tonight marked the first night in days that Jim hadn't awoken in a panic and looking for his mom.

In fact, it was the uncharacteristic quiet that had him checking up on the kids as he made his nightly rounds. Satisfied that, at least for now, everyone was sleeping soundly, he made his way toward the bedroom door. As he did, the soft thud of solid feet followed and something bumped against the back of his legs.

"Jack, stay," he ordered as he turned to face the big dog who only moments ago had been taking up much of the bedroom floor space.

At the order, Jack sat, his big blockhead cocked to one side, his dark brown eyes shining in the dim glow of the kid's nightlight. As Sam met his gaze, the dog let loose with one low whine and stood, his feathery tail wafting through the air.

"You have to go out?" Sam asked.

It was only after Jack let loose a lone 'woof' and Sam had started down the hallway, with the animal in tow, did he realized he was talking to the dog as if it understood. What was worse, the beast did indeed seem to understand him.

"Great, just call me Dr. Doolittle," he mumbled in the dimly lit hallway.

Never satisfied to follow, Jack pushed past Sam and took the lead down the stairs. The hunter followed at his leisure, quickening his pace only once he heard Jack give a low whine.

"I'm coming," Sam snapped as he moved into the dining room.

Once there he paused in puzzlement as he realized that Jack wasn't waiting in his normal spot by the patio doors. Another soft bark drew Sam's attention to the short hall that led to the garage. Surprisingly, the Saint Bernard waited there, dancing by the door in expectation.

Without thinking, Sam opened the door to the garage and Jack darted into the dark room. The younger Winchester followed at a more cautious pace, unsure of why the dog would want in the garage. Automatically, thoughts of danger surfaced and Sam found himself wishing he was armed.

Another fretful sound from the giant beast put Sam's fears to rest. He'd seen Jack face off against danger and whining just wasn't the animal's m.o. As the hunter flipped on the interior light, he was surprised to find the dog circling Sara's red mini-van. Jack sniffed the car's exterior over and over again and even went so far as to jump up and place his huge bear-like paws on the glass window of the driver's side door.

Watching the dog peer into the cabin of the van left Sam feeling hollow. It was obvious now what the big dog was searching for. Jack, apparently satisfied that his mistress wasn't hiding out in the van, moved onto the second bay of the big three car garage.

This spot was reserved for the Impala and in all the time they'd been coming here, Sam had never seen another vehicle parked in the Chevy's spot. It was yet one more way that Sara let them know just how important the brothers were in her life. The spot, now empty because the Impala sat at the hospital patiently waiting to bring both Dean and Sara home again, was quickly checked over by the tri-colored dog.

The third bay held Sara's jeep. A leftover from her pre-mom days, she'd never had the heart to rid herself of the impractical vehicle. While staying at Sara's the jeep became Sam's by default and he had to admit, he could understand her loyalty toward the Wrangler.

Jack did a circle of the silver jeep, his whining now gaining in urgency, as he seemed to realize she wasn't there either. At last defeated and dejected, Jack's head dropped nearly to the ground and he seemed to slink past Sam and into the house.

Sam couldn't help but get sucked into the big pup's disappointment. In the last couple of days he'd spent more time at Sara's house, and with Sara's kids then ever before, and never had it seemed like such a chore as it had without the energetic brunette's big personality.

"I miss them too you know," he said as he shut off the light and followed the dog back into the house.

Assuring himself he was just taking pity on the big brute, Sam headed for his bedroom with a snap of his fingers. Jack followed looking more pitiful than any creature had a right to look. As he slid down onto the braided rug that covered the hardwood floor, he called to the dog that now stood poised in the doorway.

"Come on."

Jack didn't need a second invitation. In a flash, the dog was lying across his lap, his big head resting on the hunter's shoulder. As he caught a whiff of baby shampoo, Sam found himself glad he'd given the animal a thorough bath the first morning after they'd been rescued from the pit. As Sam had scrubbed him clean, the grey, dingy coat had given way to bright white making both the hunter and the dog feel better.

"I can't believe Jessie talked me into using the blow-dryer to get you dry," Sam chuckled as he remembered the tiny blond giving him direction as he used Sara's hair-dryer to dry Jack's hair into curly waves. "We're keeping that between the two of us, right?"

Jack pulled his head back just enough to meet Sam's gaze and seemed to nod. Sam wasn't surprised the dog agreed, after all the animal had seemed downright embarrassed as he'd suffered through the bath.

"Yeah, I getcha big guy. Dean would never let me live it down either," Sam joked as he continued to lavish attention on the dog.

At the mention of Dean's name, Jack's ears perked up. He gave a low woof as he jumped to his feet and abandoned Sam to go stand at the garage door once more. The expectant look he gave him was clearly designed to get the hunter to open the door once more. Sam felt his heart clench at the dog's display.

"He's not here, pup. She's not either," Sam told him as he patted the floor next to him, "Come on, you'll have to make do with me for a bit longer."

Jack spared the door one last glance before coming back into the room and collapsing at Sam's side, his head coming to rest on Sam's thigh. "Yeah, I know, I miss 'em too."

Twin strings of drool, danced at Jack's jaw as he 'woofed' his agreement. Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes as the dog's drool soaked chin came into contact once more with his jean-clad leg. "You do know you're disgusting, right?" Sam complained, even as he leaned back against the bed, his head coming to rest on the edge of the mattress as he ran his fingers through Jack's silky soft hair.

Exhaustion pulled at the hunter causing his eyes to drop shut. He'd been running on pure adrenaline for way too long and it was taking its toll on the young hunter. The only problem was, every time he closed his eyes, images of his time spent in the mine hounded him, making sleep impossible to find.

Thoughts of what could have been circled his head, taunting him and driving him crazy. He knew part of the problem was the fact that Sara had yet to awaken. Despite the doctor's assurance that her body was simply working to heal itself, he knew he wouldn't be able to find peace until she was up and moving once more. Dean's haggard appearance wasn't doing much for his peace of mind either.

Then there were the kid's endless questions, and the chore of ensuring their lives remained as normal as possible given the circumstances. It hadn't taken him long to realize he was needed here, at the house, in a way that he wasn't needed in the hospital. Sara worked hard to maintain her children's sense of security, and given his own childhood, Sam knew how important it was.

A slight sound, and Jack's suddenly alert posture, had Sam forcing his eyes open to meet Jessica's bright blue gaze.

The little girl stood in the doorway, her curls a riot around her cherubic face, and her eyes half-closed with exhaustion. "Sam, I want mommy."

"I know, kiddo, I want her to come home too," Sam assured her, even as he held out his arms.

Jessica padded forward, her wubby held tight in one arm, and a yellow blanket grasped in the other. Without preamble, the little girl dropped to his lap, the blanket swirling around to cover both of them. Sam gently rested his chin on her silky hair and wrapped his arms around her tiny frame.

Mind quiet at last, Sam was drifting toward sleep when another noise caught his attention.

This time, it was Michael's intense grey gaze that he found focused on him. "Sam?"

Sam gave a low laugh and gestured with one hand toward the rug, "Come on, might as well join the club."

"'K," Michael breathed as he dropped to the rug beside Jack, using the dog's side as a pillow.

At this gesture, Jack gave a contented sigh and stretched out, his back against Sam's leg and his head resting on the rug.

Once Mike had settled, Sam didn't bother to close his eyes, instead he called out, "Jim?"

Sure enough, Jim, his sandy blond hair sticking up at all angles, stumbled in looking much more asleep then awake. Without asking, the nine-year-old dropped to the ground, on the other side of Sam and propped his head on the hunter's shoulder.

As quiet returned, Sam considered shuffling everyone back off to bed. He knew first hand, sleeping on the flloor was rarely conducive to a good nights sleep. The sight of the kids and dog quiet at last convinced him to just let it go. He figured any sleep was better than no sleep at all.

With his head leaning backward, resting against the bed, Sam was nearly asleep himself when he felt a vibration in his pants pocket. Startled by the sensation, it took him a minute to place what was causing the disturbance. At last, his sleep deprived mind kicked in causing him to struggle to get the phone free without waking one or more of the kids.

A quick glance at the caller id gave him sudden hope. "Dean?" Sam whispered, cognizant of the sleeping kids.

"Yeah, Sam. I just got word, Sara's awake. I'm heading to her room now."

Relief poured through Sam at his brother's words. "Thank god," Sam muttered as he glanced around at his sleeping charges. "Where are you?"

"I was getting some coffee," Dean muttered.

Sam easily picked out the guilt in Dean's tone. His brother had spent nearly every waking moment by Sara's side. Nothing Sam could say would make his brother take a break from his vigil. Only the nursing staff's threats to have him kicked out of the hospital worked to get him to leave her side. These short trips were usually taken when Sara was having her vitals taken and he would venture no farther than the cafeteria for a hideously bad cup of coffee.

Knowing it was no use, Sam nevertheless argued, "Dean, it's not your fault you weren't there, she'll understand."

"She shouldn't have had to wake up alone."

Give that his brother looked like the walking death, Sam couldn't blame the nurses for insisting his brother step out from time to time for a bit of fresh-air. Sara wasn't the only one that needed some recovery time from their foray into the mine.

"Tell her the kids miss her, but they're all fine," Sam said trying to distract his brother from his guilt.

"You got it, I'll call you when I know more."

Sam satisfied that at last everything was going to be alright, hit end on his phone and laid his head back to rest on the bed. It was only moments before the pull of sleep claimed him and he gladly surrendered.

888

Sara awoke to confusion and pain.

The pain she could handle, it was down to a dull ache that centered around her leg. It was the confusion that caused her heart to speed up. Though no one was in her view, she could sense someone hovering nearby.

She was in a hospital of that at least she was sure. If the smell of antiseptic and the soft swoosh of a stranger's quiet movements weren't enough to confirm it, then the woozy feeling in her head coupled with the cotton dry feeling in her mouth that heralded the 'good stuff' would have been clue enough.

Memories of the past, waking up alone in a hospital, only to find her apple-pie life had been shattered beyond repair, added to her panic. She couldn't help but fear what she was waking up to this time.

As Sara tried and failed to gather her courage and open her eyes, a machine somewhere to her left went into alarm.

"I know your awake, honey, no sense playing possum."

Having been ratted out by her own body, Sara blinked, forcing her eyes open. As expected, she was in a dimly lit hospital room. An older woman, who looked to be frowning at the machine that still beeped, was standing by the bed.

"How's the pain?" the nurse questioned as she reached out to silence the monitor.

Still enjoying the after effects of whatever they'd already given her, Sara rasped, "Better."

With a grim smile, the nurse reached out to take Sara's hand. Counting her pulse, the dark eyed woman continued, "That's not hard to believe. I saw you the day they brought you in."

Sara didn't bother to hide her grimace. Jumbled memories of being lifted, strapped to a backboard, out of the mine flashed in her head at the woman's words. Self-consciously, she gestured toward herself, "Can't imagine I look much better."

"You don't," the nurse teased, "But given the way that fellow of yours has been hovering over your bedside, I'm thinking you must clean up pretty well."

Mention of her 'fellow' only served to increase Sara's heart rate. As the nurse fretted over the once again blaring monitor, Sara scanned the room. Though she was without her glasses, none of the dark vague shapes that filled the room looked human enough to account for Dean.

"Dean?" she questioned though given Dean's record with the law, a hospital crawling with the city's finest was the last place he should be.

"That's the one. Don't go thinking he's abandoned you, we've taken to throwing him out when we're doing our rounds. Some of my girls get nervous when he pulls that watchdog routine."

"He keeping you on your toes,?" Sara couldn't help but smile at the nurse's astute assessment.

"Sam?" Sara questioned. Dean's brother was every bit as overprotective as his older brother was, though the kid usually hid it better.

"That tall good looking drink of water that came in with you all, he's had all the nurses and even a few of the docs in a tizzy since you came in."

Given Sam's soulful gaze and chiseled jaw, Sara had little doubt he'd been garnering his fair share of attention. Of course, Dean had probably managed to acquire his own following even as he sat worrying by her bedside.

"Now, that man of yours is a different matter. No one would dare flirt with that one. Not with the way he's been watching over you. You're one lucky lady."

Sara swallowed the lump in her throat that threatened to choke her and brushed one hand across her cheek. No one had to tell her she was lucky, the only reason she was still alive was because of the brothers. If it hadn't been for them, her kids would have ended up orphans or worse long ago.

"You don't know the half of it," Sara joked.

Tears, a byproduct of the pain meds, Sara assured herself, still lingered in her eyes as she asked, "Where is he?"

Before the nurse could answer, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. Sara would have recognized the sound of those boots anywhere. Running a self-conscious hand through her snarled hair, she couldn't help but wish she'd gotten a moment to get cleaned up.

"Speak of the devil," the nurse murmured as she patted Sara carefully on the shoulder. "I'll let your doctor know you're awake."

Throat suddenly dry from anticipation, she simply nodded, her gaze never leaving the partially open door. As the nurse exited, there was a muffled conversation and then the retreating sound of softer footsteps.

Then, he was there, a blurry form hesitating in the doorway.

"Sara," he rasped, the rough timber of his voice, sending a shiver coursing down her spine. As she watched him start toward her, she found herself wondering, not for the first time, just what such a man was doing with a woman like her.

As he reached her side, his face swam into focus and just like that her world seemed to right itself. Her heartbeat slowed, her breathing eased and the tension that had gripped her body melted into nothing.

Gingerly he settled himself on the edge of her bed, leaving her to wonder about the injuries she couldn't see. The ones that were visible were bad enough, especially the dark purple bruise that graced his left temple. What worried her more was the pallor of his skin, despite his tan, and the tension around his eyes. It was clear, something was wrong.

Sara skipped the preamble, leveled herself up onto her elbows, and got straight to the point, "What's wrong?"

At her demand, Dean's grin became slightly more natural looking. "Everything's fine," he re-assured her as he pressed one strong hand to her shoulder, pushing her gently back down.

Not ready to accept his words at face value, Sara cocked one brow in skepticism and used her best mom voice, "You might as well just confess now. You know I'll just keep badgering till you do."

With a wry twist to his full lips, Dean stretched his legs out alongside her, and settled in with a sigh. "Everything is fine now that you're awake. You were starting to worry me."

Not willing to be deterred by her own injuries, Sara pressed, "Your head?" She could see by the lump, he'd taken quite a hit, but for the life of her she couldn't remember if he'd sustained any other injuries. She was finding it more and more difficult to recall her time spent in the mine.

As far as her sanity went, that probably wasn't such a bad thing.

"A little headache," he admitted nonchalantly.

"A little headache," Sara snorted. "I'm sure."

She had little doubt that Dean's 'little headache' was most likely a full blow concussion. Still, given the hunter's legendary pain threshold, a knock on the head shouldn't have been enough to cause the stress she could clearly read in his bright green eyes.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. As soon as the idea crossed her mind, she felt a sinking in her stomach that had nothing to do with her injuries. "Sam?"

This time a genuine smile creased Dean's face. "Sam's fine. He has his hands full keeping your devil spawn in line, but it's good for him. Keeps that ego in check, he's learning he really doesn't know everything."

Unwilling to be deterred, even by the idea of Sam facing off against her kids, Sara persisted, "Then what? I'm fine, your fine, Sam's up to his elbows in domestic drudgery, everything's good right?"

888

Dean lightly traced one finger down the side of Sara's cheek, gently outlining the bruises that covered the left side of her face. It was obvious, the widow hadn't gotten a chance to glimpse in a mirror if she was including herself in the 'everything's fine' category. Spending the last three days, sitting helplessly by her side, had gotten to him in ways he'd never expected.

Though this wasn't the first vigil Dean had spent hovering at her side, it was the first time she'd been completely out of it. The first time he'd been hard pressed to reconcile the idea of his Sara, bright, shining, Sara, with the still silent form that lay before him.

What had made matters worse, was that the moment the paramedics had gotten her out of the pit, and loaded into the ambulance, patient confidentiality had kicked in. Without proof that he was indeed a family member, the hospital had refused to share any medical information with him other than to assure him everything that could be done, was being done.

Dean credited his brother with keeping him sane in that first panicked hour when the staff had rebuffed his every effort to learn Sara's condition. It was only Sam's calm insistence that she would be okay that kept him from spiriting the widow away. It didn't help his nerves that the last image he'd had to hold on to had been the moment before they'd strapped Sara to the back board and had lifted her out of the mine.

Lying so silent and still, her bruised and battered face nearly unrecognizable in the dark pit; it was an image that would forever haunt his dreams.

Things had become slightly more bearable once Tom had arrived. Sara's brother had made it clear, that Dean and Sam were to be given full access to the brunette. It was rough knowing that if it hadn't been for her brother, he wouldn't have gotten near Sara and it left him contemplating the future and his relationship with the widow more now than ever.

"Hey," Sara breathed as the hand without an I.V. reached up to stroke Dean's stubbled cheek, "where'd you go?"

Not ready to face Sara's piercing gaze and first-rate interrogation skills, Dean opted for distraction. "I was trying to remember the last time we kissed."

As he'd hoped, Sara's breath quickened and she shot him a wicked grin. "Three weeks yesterday, remember? You cornered me in the kitchen while the kids were playing Parcheesi in the other room."

Flashes of that stolen moment hit Dean hard, making him reconsider his choice of distractions. "I don't think I'll ever forget that. You were doing your best to corrupt me."

"Corrupt you," Sara huffed, "You started it, I'm the innocent, I was making popcorn when you decided you couldn't keep your hands to yourself."

Enchanted by the way Sara's eyes twinkled with mirth, Dean kept up the banter. Lightly dropping a kiss on the deep purple bruise that marred her forehead, he teased, "Hey, I'm only a weak-willed man. You were the one shooting me looks all evening. How could I refuse the offer."

"Offer," Sara laughed, "Please, you flatter yourself. I wasn't shooting you 'looks', I had something caught in my eye." Dropping Dean an exaggerated wink, she continued, "Besides I'm much too grown up to be a slave to my sex drive."

"Really," Dean growled as he playfully lunged toward her, the sensitive little spot beneath Sara's ear, his intended target.

Clearly reading his intentions, she threw up her hands in mock protest and began to laugh.

Dean's lips had just brushed her neck when her breath caught and what had been breathless laughter became a pain filled gasp.

"Ah…." the widow breathed as she wrapped a hand protectively around her waist.

The sudden reminder of her injuries sobered Dean immediately. "Your ribs," the hunter explained as he slipped off the bed, and leaned over her, "slow breaths, just take it easy."

Sara complied, and as she got her breathing under control once more, he noticed that the arm around her waist loosened.

"Better," he asked as he carefully pushed a lock of her hair back from her pale face.

With a nod, Sara replied, "'m good. Just couldn't catch my breath."

"My fault," Dean sighed, "I've had enough broken ribs, you'd think I'd know better then to make you laugh."

"It was worth it," she replied, as a weak grin teased her lips. "You're always worth it. Come back?"

Unable to refuse her anything, Dean gingerly settled himself once more on the side of the bed. "Only if you promise to leave my virtue in-tact."

With a grin so wicked it nearly stole his breath, Sara teased, "I'm not making a promise I don't intend to keep."

The taunt would have been much more effective if not for the jaw popping yawn that followed her bold words.

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure what you want would be much more fun if we weren't in a hospital bed and if you didn't look like an extra from Dawn of the Dead."

"Hey," Sara replied indignantly, "see how good you look after Satan's rental car drives you down a mountainside, then to add insult to injury…" here Sara paused as yet another yawn caught her in its grip, "Said car ran over my leg." With these words, Sara's eyelids slipped shut and her forehead thunked against Dean's shoulder.

"You're forgetting getting locked in a mine with that bastard," Dean growled, images of just how bad things had gotten flickering through his mind like a horror movie he couldn't escape.

With her eyes still shut tight, and a wave of her hand that nearly took off his nose, Sara mumbled, "That's right, the damn mine…I think next time I'll just take my chances on freezing to death."

"You came close enough this time," Dean complained as he gently wrapped one arm around the now slightly snoring widow. "Too damn close."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

888

"Mom!"

Sara couldn't help but wince at the shriek that rang through the garage. Mike's exuberant cry was not only to be expected it was a welcome reminder of just how much she'd been missed. She only wished the eight year old could keep his enthusiasm at a dull roar, she was afraid her head wouldn't be able to handle much more than that.

Ever since her accident she'd been plagued with headaches that left her vision blurring and her stomach rolling. The doctors had blamed her concussion, and had made it clear that slowly, but surely, the symptoms would disappear. Sara was still waiting.

"Easy on the noise, kiddo," Dean cautioned as he moved around the hood of the Impala to open the passenger side door.

Michael, nearly bouncing out of his skin with excitement, whispered loudly, "I know, Dean. Sam said Mom's head still hurts. We're gonna be extra quiet I promise."

Sara and Dean shared a quick grin at Mike's earnest declaration. Though Sara was certain her kids had the best of intentions, she knew her idea of quiet and theirs were miles apart.

"You should have stayed a couple more days," Dean chided as he carefully helped her swing the awkward cast that encased her leg out of the car.

Sara stared hard at Dean, more than a little irritated with this on-going argument. It was one the hunter had raised too often in the last day. Sara would have none of it. The endless days spent staring up at the white ceiling had grated on her last nerve. It didn't help that once she'd awoken, Dean had made himself scarce under the ruse of helping Sam with the kids.

If she were honest with herself she'd admit the elder Winchester was dodging her with grim determination. No longer, Sara told herself, as she accepted Dean's help in gaining her feet. She might not be up and swinging yet, but she was getting better. Better enough, that she was ready to clear the air between herself and Dean, no longer could he hide behind visiting hours and nurses orders.

He was on her turf now and she was calling the shots.

"I'm done with hospitals," Sara's voice dared Dean to argue.

As was his current trend, Dean acquiesced with a shrug as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and swept the other under Sara's knees in one smooth motion.

The gesture not only swept Sara's feet out from under her, it also left her a bit breathless as the hunter then proceeded to move toward the door Michael had flung open.

Mike trailed along jabbering away as he worked to tell Sara every little detail she'd missed. Tears welled in her eyes as she listened to his updates on everything that happened to him since she'd been gone. The idea that she'd come so close to leaving him and the other kids permanently, caused her eyes to fill with tears. Though she was still hazy on the details of her crash and subsequent attack at the hands of the spirit, she knew full well just how bad things had gotten.

"Am I hurting you?"

Sara struggled to blink back her tears as she shook her head. "No, I'm just…happy. Happy to be home."

Dean's skeptic glance spoke volumes as he shifted her slightly to better support her broken leg. "I got your room setup this morning when I was here. You're all set."

At his words, Sara began to struggle. "No, I'm not going from one bed to another. The couch'll do for now."

"Nope, its bed for you, Doctor's orders."

Heat infused Sara's face at Dean's highhanded ways; temper flaring, she snapped, "I'm not a damn child, Dean. I'm staying downstairs."

"Your not a child?" Dean shot back, his green eyes flashing dangerously, "Could have fooled me considering the way you've been acting."

Conscious that she had only moments before Dean hit the stairs to the second floor; Sara ignored her aching head and struggled harder. She'd just spent the last week practically tied to her bed and she was done with it. For better or worse, she was done playing the invalid.

"Put me on the damn couch, Dean! You have no right in hell…"

"Sara?"

The sound of Sam's tentative voice caused Sara to check her words. Turning, she saw him standing with Jim, Jessie, and Jack by the fireplace, a limp banner held in their hands. Mike moved to their side, his eyes round with surprise.

Though this wasn't the first time the kids had ever heard her raise her voice in anger, it was the first time she'd ever exchanged words with Dean. Fighting the instinct to give in to make things easier on the children, Sara gestured to Sam to give her a minute.

Schooling her voice, Sara tried once more, "Dean, please, just let me hang out down here for a bit, then I promise I'll go on up."

Proud that she'd managed to sound so reasonable, Sara fully expected Dean to give in. Instead, the hunter re-adjusted his hold on her and continued toward the stairs.

"Put me down, Dean!"

This time there was nothing reasonable in Sara's tone. Fully aware her behavior was closer to the child Dean declared her to be then the grown woman she was, she nonetheless found herself unable to give in. "Now, damn it, you have no friggin' right."

At her words, Dean spun around and nearly tossed her on the couch. "No, I don't have any say do I. I don't have any rights at all. You want to lay on the couch, fine. Who the hell am I to stop you."

At Dean's tone, Jack, who'd been sitting patiently by the fireplace, jumped up and nearly leapt across the room to stand in front of Sara. Though the dog didn't growl, the tension in his giant frame was unmistakable.

Having the big dog turn on him seemed to be the last straw for Dean. Without a backward glance, the hunter stormed out of the room.

The sound of the garage door slamming shut echoed through the unnaturally silent house.

888

"Dean?" Sara came awake with a start, the hunter's name slipping unbidden from her lips.

"Nope, just me."

With a groan for the pain that was radiating down her back, Sara eased her head to the side and found her brother sitting on the far end of the couch.

"Hey Tom, what're you doing here?" she asked as she glanced around the room.

"He's not here," Tom stated plainly, as he laid aside the magazine he'd been reading. "I stopped by to see how you were making out and Sam asked if I'd hang around a bit. You wanna tell me what's going on?"

Embarrassed and not a little confused, Sara shrugged and then promptly wished she hadn't as her body protested the movement. "I'm not sure. Dean's been acting…" Sara trailed off unable to explain the unease she'd been feeling for the last week.

At Sara's hesitancy, Tom moved closer. "Come on, Sara, just spit it out. You'll feel better."

Even at Tom's encouragement, Sara couldn't manage more than a whisper, "I'm afraid he's going to leave again."

Her older brother's features tightened slightly at her words. Sara had little doubt he was remembering last year, when Dean had left her. To say it had been a dark period in the widow's life was an understatement and Tom had seen the damage first hand.

"Sara, I was there, at the hospital. I saw the way he looked…there's…well there's no way he could just up and leave you."

Sara dropped her chin, cutting off her view of her brother's pleading eyes. Barely able to admit it to herself, she forced the words out, "He could if he thought I would be better off."

"Given your tendency for trouble, I doubt Dean could ever believe you'd be better off without him."

Exasperated with her brother's efforts to boost her spirits Sara snapped, "Fine, you tell me then. You tell me why for days now he's been pulling away from me? Why today he left over a silly argument?"

"What was the argument?"

Heat suffused her face as she admitted, "I didn't want to go upstairs."

"Huh, you didn't want to go upstairs. And that's what you said?" Tom asked his voice full of skepticism.

"Well," Sara admitted, "I might have told him he had no right to boss me around."

At Tom's exaggerated eye roll, Sara hurried to defend herself.

"I'm a grown woman with three children; I think I'm capable of making my own decisions."

This time, Tom laughed outright. "Really? Well I'm a grown man, with kids, and if I remember correctly, you and my wife had no problem ordering me about last year when I had my knee surgery."

"Yeah, well that was different."

Tom leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "Really, different how?"

Not happy with the way this conversation was headed, Sara snapped, "Because you were being an ass. You wouldn't stay still like you were supposed to and you kept trying to do too much too fast."

"Huh. Kinda like the way you checked yourself out of the hospital a day early? Or ignoring your doctor's bed rest order?"

Sara opened her mouth to protest, but choked back the words. Tom was right, she hadn't exactly been a model patient. Still…, "Then why didn't he just call me on it, why the drama/"

With this question, Tom shrugged, "Honestly, I don't know. Dean's always given you as good as he's gotten. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you look like death warmed over, maybe it's just too much."

With an unsteady hand, Sara pushed back a limp strand of hair. She knew she didn't look good, the bruise on her forehead dipped down to cover most of her cheek in a swirl of deep purple and green coloring. Plus, there was the whole coma thing. To say she would have gone out of her mind if their positions had been reversed was an understatement.

"You know they wouldn't let him see you at first?"

Sara jerked her gaze back to her brother in surprise, "What?"

"He didn't have identification on him, they wouldn't give him any updates, or let him near you until I showed up and smoothed things over."

"I have no rights…" Sara mumbled as considered Dean's earlier words.

"What?" Tom questioned in confusion.

"That's what Dean said before he slammed out of here, that he had no rights."

"You never told him?"

Sara shrugged guiltily. "I was waiting for the right moment."

"Brilliant. Don't you think if you're gonna allow the guy to make medical decisions for you, and give him guardianship over your children you might want to let him know."

Suddenly feeling stupid for putting off such an important talk, Sara really didn't need to hear Tom's admonishment. "I just panicked. I got to thinking that I should have talked it over with him before I'd had the paperwork drawn up, that maybe I'd assumed too much. What if he didn't want that kind of responsibility?"

"You know, Sis, this'd be much easier if you made all this legal, instead of shacking up with the guy," Tom joked with a wry grin on his face.

Sara shook her head and argued, "It's complicated."

"Maybe if you asked, he'd give up the job."

Aware that Tom didn't have all the facts, Sara worded her answer carefully. "What he does is important. It's important to him, but, its also important to others. Marrying me isn't a good enough reason to give it up, and I can't marry him knowing I'd could end up a widow again."

"So what're you going to do?"

"Well, I'm going to ask my big brother for one more favor."

"No need to butter me up, its not like I'm gonna say no when you look as if you've gone ten rounds with Tyson."

Content that she could make things right once more; Sara leaned back with a sigh. "Thanks, Tom, I owe you one."

888

Dean nosed the impala into its place in the garage and shut down the classic Chevy. With a sigh, he opened the car door, forced himself to get out, and made his way toward the door.

It wasn't until his hand was on the doorknob that he realized one of the garage bays was empty. Surprised, he stared at the spot where the jeep normally sat and pulled out his cell-phone.

There was only one thing that would have caused Sam to leave the widow alone. However, if his kid brother had taken off to wipe out the ghost haunting route 78 on his own, Dean was going to kick his ass. Before he could punch in Sam's speed dial, a pair of headlights flashed at the top of the drive and began coming closer.

As he picked out the familiar outline of the jeep, he shoved his phone back in his pocket, tamped down his impatience and set about waiting as his brother parked the off-road vehicle.

It didn't take long for him to figure out Sam was stalling. The younger man moved at a pace that would have made a snail look speedy as he gathered a green duffle from and hopped out of the vehicle.

Tapping his foot impatiently, Dean lifted a lone eyebrow and complained, "You go any slower and you'll be moving backward. Where the hell've you been?"

Sam ran a hand through his thick brown hair and shrugged a little too innocently, "Tom stopped by to visit so I ran out for a bit."

"Really?," Dean questioned as his brother came closer.

The open guilt on Sam's face made it all clear. With a grimace, Dean snorted, "You just couldn't wait."

As he intended, the statement left Sam no room to dodge the truth.

"I couldn't let him ruin some other family's Christmas."

"But it was okay to risk ruining mine?" Dean complained.

His name was Stephen Morris-"

"I don't give a rat's ass what his name was, you had no business going back to that mine without me," Dean interrupted.

Sam held up one hand in a wait gesture and continued, "His car went off the highway back in '78. They found the car, but not him. Search and rescue tried for two days before a blizzard hit, shutting down the search. By the time the snow cleared it was determined there was no chance he was still alive so…they stopped looking."

Dean frowned at the information; he found it hard to believe they would have given up so easily. "So that was it, they just gave up?"

"Stephen had no family. His wife, Caroline, died four years earlier. There was no one there to force the issue."

Suddenly everything the spirit had said and done began to make a warped kind of sense to the elder Winchester. "Caroline, that's who he kept confusing Sara with, right?"

The younger hunter nodded. "She was murdered about eighteen months before his accident."

"Murdered," Dean muttered, really not surprised. Given the ghost's insistence that the Winchester brothers were trying to hurt Sara, it really wasn't hard to believe. "What else'd you find?"

"Over the years there've been seven other cars, all woman drivers, all during the Christmas holidays that have gone off that same section of road. Two died on impact, four suffered injuries ranging from minor to serious, and one woman was never found. I can only guess she ended up in another section of the mine."

At his brother's words, a slight shudder went through Dean's lean frame. Sara had come too close to becoming another tragic statistic. He couldn't stop the fleeting thought that the widow's tenuous luck would run out someday, it seemed inevitable.

"You ever wonder when her luck's finally gonna catch up to her?" Sam asked with a frown.

Dean didn't stop to wonder how his brother always managed to read his mind, he just grimaced and growled, "Every damn day."

With a shake of his shaggy head, Sam changed the subject, "Yeah, well I'd done the research while you were with Sara in the hospital. I knew it was a simple salt and burn so when Tom showed up tonight and you were MIA I figured it was as good a time as any to put an end to it."

"You just didn't want me going back into that mine."

Sam didn't even bother to deny it. "There wasn't any need. I found the bones, salt and burned them, it's over."

"He nearly killed her," Dean growled not sure he could let it go so easily.

"I hear ya, man, and I get where you're coming from, but it's over now."

Dean conceded that it was probably best over and done with. "Yeah, well don't make a habit of taking off without me. You could have broken your damn neck getting back into that pit."

Sam took the chastising with a shrug of his shoulders. "Taking off without explanation must be a family trait."

This time it was Dean who dropped his gaze . "Since when is going out for a beer a criminal act."

"Since you pitched a fit that would have done any fourteen year old girl proud just before you stormed out," Sam countered, his mocking words at odds with his serious expression.

Not at all ready to have a heart to heart with his brother, Dean ignored the barb, "What, you're the only Winchester allowed to vent his frustration? Hell, it's not a day ending in Y if you're not swinging those ape arms about something."

"Riiight," Sam drawled as he moved past Dean and opened the garage door. With a small salute toward their room, he continued, "I'm gonna hit the shower, wash that mine off once and for all. Let me know if you need back up."

Dean rolled his eyes at his younger brother, "Like I'm gonna count on you. I know better, Sara'll wave some of her home cooking under your nose and you'll fold like a house of cards."

At Dean's words, Sam groaned and nodded in agreement, "Probably, but come on even you have to admit her pancakes are worth it."

Unable to argue with his brother, Dean gave him a shove toward their room, "Traitor."

888

After stowing his jacket in his bedroom, Dean left Sam to his shower and headed through the dining room. As he did he noted the empty couch and quiet atmosphere. Given the late hour it was no surprise the kids were in bed. He was however surprised to find Sara wasn't downstairs.

Feeling the need for a little liquid courage before he faced Sara, he headed for the kitchen. Not bothering with the overhead light, Dean made his way to the refrigerator by the range hood light. He had the door open and his hand on a lager, when a voice behind him caused him to jump.

"You wanna grab one of those for me."

With a slight grin, Dean grabbed two beers and turned, holding one out to Sara's older brother. "How'd you get her to bed?"

Tom, who'd been sitting at the kitchen table with his feet propped up on another chair accepted the beer and grinned. "I didn't. I left her on the couch until her back seized up then I gave her a ration of shit while I got her tucked into bed."

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the older man's content expression. "Payback's a bitch, huh?"

"Damn straight, that girl did nothing but nag me last year, its about time I got even."

"Yeah, well I'm sure you had more luck then I would have. She seems pretty damn determined to give me nightmares."

Tom nodded in agreement, "Yeah, well the kid's always been like that. She's got a bad habit of pushing. I guess its what's kept her going through all the bad shit."

"Guess so," Dean agreed. He knew exactly what Tom meant. Sara had never been one to take the easy way out. If there was a wall in front of her, the widow insisted on going through it even if it would be easier to go around. Normally, Dean found himself admiring her do or die spirit, however, when she'd come so damn close to actually dying he found it hard to appreciate her stubbornness.

Tom took a long pull on the bottle in his hand, set it down and stood. Holding out one hand to Dean, he said in a serious tone, "Listen, Winchester, I wanna say thanks. Without you looking out for her, Sara would have died in that damn pit. I owe you one, in fact, I owe you more than one."

Dean accepted the handshake with a nod, "You don't owe me your thanks, I don't know what I would have done if I couldn't find her. I was saving myself as much as I was saving her."

Sara's older brother held Dean's gaze for one long moment before he stepped back, "I'm glad she's got you, man. As hard as it is for her to admit it, she needs you on her side." At these words, Tom's mouth thinned to a hard line, "Seems as if the kid's always up shit creek."

Well aware of Sara's propensity for trouble, Dean just grinned, "Your preachin' to the choir."

"'K, well go on up, I doubt she's still awake, but I know she wanted to smooth things over with you."

Dean frowned at his words, "She's got nothing to apologize for, I'm the one that lost it."

Tom grinned as he grabbed his jacket off the table, "Yeah, well bringing out the worst in people is a family trait, its just a damn good thing we all fall in love with saints."

"And by saints you mean stubborn jackasses, right?"

"Right," Tom laughed over his shoulder on his way toward the front door.

888

Sara lay on her back, her leg propped up on a couple pillows and wondered if it was possible to be any more uncomfortable. Everything hurt. Every bump and bruise she'd suffered, and she'd suffered plenty, from her accident and subsequent run-in with the spirit was making itself known. At this moment she wanted nothing more than to take the pain reliever her doctor had prescribed and to fade away in a foggy haze, but she refused to give in before making amends with Dean.

Now if only he would come home so she could confess and deal with his reaction. She'd thought she heard the front door close about ten minutes ago, signifying that her brother had left, but still no Dean.

As a million "what if's" rolled through her mind, she became more and more agitated. What if he didn't come home, what if it was Sam who'd come back, what if it was merely Dean coming home to pack up his gear so he could hit the road.

At the idea that Dean might leave, Sara suddenly couldn't lay still any longer. She had to talk to him and if he wouldn't come to her, then dammit, she'd go to him.

Aware of the late hour and her sleeping children, Sara grit her jaw against a groan and pushed herself up into a sitting position. For one awful moment the room swung about, causing her stomach to turn in sympathy. Seriously afraid she was going to vomit on herself, Sara pushed back the pain and drew in a few quick shallow breaths.

As the world righted itself once more, she slid her good leg off the bed, and pushed against the floor with her bare toes.

At this movement, Jack, who'd been lying alongside the bed, opened one eye and gave a deep world-weary sigh. Sara couldn't help but snap in annoyance, "So sorry I woke you."

With her words, Jack huffed and shut his eyes once more. Apparently, he wasn't worried she was going to get very far. For some reason the dog's lack of interest in her movements bothered her more than she cared to admit. "I am getting up, and your getting up with me. I need a damn crutch."

Luckily, the big dog was tall enough to provide a suitable substitute for the crutches that were beyond Sara's reach. She had no doubt, Tom had hoped to discourage her from moving, by placing them so far out of reach. He should have known better.

Panting slightly from her exertions, Sara began to ease her bad leg off the high bed. Unfortunately, the moment the heavy cast slid off the bed, she found herself unable to stop from being drug down with it. Landing on the thick rug with a heavy thump, she couldn't stop a cry of pain.

Jack never one to be out and out cruel, lifted his bulk off the ground with surprising quickness and was at her side before her vision had fully cleared. "Good dog," Sara breathed out as she wrapped one hand in the thick fur on Jack's neck. With her good leg braced beneath her, she pushed up on her foot and pulled, using the dog as an anchor.

As if he understood what she needed, Jack stood still as a statue while she worked to stabilize herself. "Good dog," Sara praised.

This time the dog's sigh was combined with an eye roll that left her with little doubt as to what his opinion of her little midnight jaunt was.

"Don't give me that, I have to go see him."

"You could have simply waited until I came up."

The low voice startled Sara, and compromised her grip on Jack. With a cry she lost her balance and began to topple sideways. Braced as she was for impact, she was even more surprised to find a pair of strong arms drawing her against a rock hard chest.

"Gotcha," Dean growled as he gazed down at her with his intense green eyes. "You're nothing but trouble, do you know that?"

As Sara gazed up at the perfect face that was only inches from her own, she couldn't help but feel the pain she'd suffered had been well worth it. "You're back."

The hunter shook his head in frustration and groaned, "Can't a guy go get a beer without everybody assuming he's running for the hills?"

"If you had been running for the hills, can't say as I'd blame you," Sara admitted with a trembling smile. "I'm not exactly the model patient I know."

Dean's full lips tipped up in a weak grin as he admitted, "You do know how to try a man's patience."

His words sent fear tingling down her spine as he swept her into his arms and moved toward the bed. Suddenly fearful of what he might say next, Sara gripped him tighter even as he tried to slip her back onto the bed.

"Easy," he breathed into her ear as he reached behind his neck to unwind her arms and step back a few steps.

Reclining alone on the bed, Sara hated how vulnerable she felt. She wasn't sure she the courage to broach their fight if he was going to continue to hold her at a distance.

"Listen," Dean started as he ran a hand through his short sandy-colored locks. "I'm sorry I took off earlier, its just I--"

"Don't," Sara interrupted even as she sat up once more, ready to ignore her abused leg in order to close the distance between them. "I'm the one, I've never been good at being taken care of."

"Stay," Dean ordered with a sharp tone and one hand held up. "Don't you dare get up."

Still not ready to believe that he wasn't going to bolt for the exit, Sara settled back uneasily. As she watched he stripped off his battered leather coat and settled down on the low slung chair that sat in the corner, to kick off his boots. Accepting the fact that he was here to stay, after all there was no way he'd leave his shoes behind, Sara allowed her body to relax.

Lying there, she watched as he stripped off his blue plaid flannel and exposed the black t-shirt he wore underneath it. Clad in a pair of faded blue jeans, and his t-shirt, Dean padded barefoot toward her bed.

Before he reached her side he dropped down in front of Jack and reached one careful hand out to stroke the dog's big blocky head. Apparently in Jack's book all was square because the big animal let out a groan, dropped his head to Dean's knee and closed his eyes.

At Jack's acceptance, Sara saw the tension slip out of Dean's tense stance. It was obvious the hunter was afraid he'd lost his place in Jack's affections. "He was just reacting to the tension in the room. He trusts you."

Dean glanced up at Sara's words, a wry smile breaking across his face, "Yeah, I guess he's gonna have to learn that sometimes you drive me insane."

Sara returned his smile with a hesitant one of her own, "Yeah, well, I'd say I won't do it again, but lets face it, it's a promise I can't keep."

This time Dean's smile was true. "You don't have to tell me, after all I just found you trying to get out of bed."

Sara's shrug was sheepish as she admitted, "I was coming to find you."

The younger man gave Jack one last pat on the head before gaining his feet. In one smooth motion, he was across the room and by her side. Settling on the edge of the bed, he ran one rough finger down her throat. "You didn't have to, there's no place else I'd rather be."

This time the tremor that moved through Sara had nothing to do with her injuries. Fearing for her sanity, she grabbed hold of the hand that was now stroking downward toward the scooped neckline of her ragged tee. "Listen, we have to talk."

Dean nodded and leaned forward, his hot breath following the path his finger had traveled earlier. "So talk."

Sara, her head tilted back to give him better access suddenly found her mind completely blank. "Talk about what?" she murmured as she lifted her own hand to trail along his stubbled jaw.

"Don't ask me, near as I can tell your just about perfect," Dean purred as he shifted closer, his body now aligned with her own.

Tracing his full bottom lip with her finger, her mind focused on the sensations now thrumming through her, Sara was more than tempted to put off any heavy talk in favor of some heavy petting.

"Mom?"

It was funny just how quickly ardor could be started and stopped, Sara thought to herself as she leaned back into her bed and looked toward the bedroom door.

"What's up Jim?" Sara called out as she tugged at Dean's tee-shirt with a regretful smile and a soft pat to his wide chest.

Dean's eyes crinkled up in amusement as he took up a slightly more respectful pose and captured her hand in his. "It's good to be home," he murmured as Jimmy opened the bedroom door.

"You okay hon?" Sara asked as she shifted her attention to her oldest.

Jim's pajama bottoms were showing more ankle than they should, his chest was bare and his wheat colored hair was standing at attention. Looking at him now she was having a hard time reconciling herself to the fact that she was the proud mother of a nine year old. With his big brown eyed gaze pointed blearily in her direction her earlier concerns for her future and her kids future suddenly became all the more important.

"I thought I heard a noise."

Dean sat up and moved toward Jim. "Sorry, buddy, I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's 'k," Jim said as he smothered a huge yawn, "I'm glad your both here."

"That makes two of us, kiddo," Dean replied as he gripped Jim's shoulder. "Let's get you settled back into bed. You need some sleep, we've got weeks of trying to keep your mom occupied ahead of us. It's gonna have to be a team effort."

"Mom's a terrible patient, all she does is whine," Jim complained as he shot Sara a lopsided grin.

"Hey," Sara complained with a mock frown, "I'll have you know I was a model patient in the hospital."

"Sure," Dean joked as he steered Jim toward the bedroom door, "Remind me to tell you about the fit she threw because her TV wasn't working."

"Hey!" Sara growled, "There's only so much time a person can stare up at a white ceiling and not go crazy."

The sound of her son's laughter, as he headed down the hallway, mixing with Dean's rough chuckle put the last of her worries to rest. More than ready to talk about the future, Sara settled back and waited for Dean's return.

888

It didn't take long for Dean to get Jimmy settled. It was, however, long enough for Sara to have fallen asleep. As he stood by the side of her bed, watching her sleep he couldn't help but appreciate just how lucky he was.

It'd been nearly two years since he'd stumbled into this house, run down from his latest hunt and in need of help in more ways than one. It had been Sara who'd reached out to him, Sara and her family who'd given him and Sam the home they'd always craved. No matter how long they had together, he would never be able to repay her for all she'd done for him.

"Hey…Why so serious," Sara said with a tug on his hand.

Startled out of his fugue, Dean smiled and shrugged, "I was just remembering the first thing you ever said to me…."

A soft smile broke across Sara's countenance as she again pulled at his hand. "I told you, you were safe here, and then you passed out."

Happy to comply, Dean settled onto the bed with a groan of contentment and pulled Sara carefully to his side. With her head resting lightly on his chest, he gently began to stroke his fingers up and down her bare arm. "I do not pass out. I may temporarily rest my eyes, but that's not passing out."

Sara joked, "Yeah right, you don't pass out and I'm not stubborn".

Dean laughed outright at Sara's words, "That's right! You're just spirited, right? I think that's what Bobby told me when he sent me in your direction."

"Spirited, huh, is that what the old man called me," Sara paused for a moment then continued, "I guess that's better than supernatural catnip. That is what you told Sam I am right?"

Damming his brother and his big mouth, Dean 'fessed up, "Actually, I said you were like crack for the supernatural, I guess Sammy didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Niiiccee…" Sara drawled and pulled away a few inches, "So good of him to spare my feelings".

Aware that her affected huff was just that, Dean pulled her back and laughed, "Come on you have to admit, you're like the Pied Piper. You just skip along trailing baddies behind you."

Laughter burst out of Sara and she snuggled against his chest. "Yeah, well, I guess it's a good thing I've got you and the Sasquatch watching my back, huh."

"Damn straight," Dean replied as he allowed one hand to drift down her back to gently curve over bottom, "It's a rough job but somebody's gotta do it."

At his words, Sara pulled back slightly and placed a hand on his chest. "Listen, Dean, we need to talk."

Not sure he was ready for this talk, Dean grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her abused knuckles. "You need sleep. We can talk tomorrow."

Sara shook her head vehemently, "No, I've put it off for too long already."

Accepting the fact that she wouldn't be put off tonight, Dean decided that they might as well get the heart to heart done with before the exhaustion he could see tugging at her won out. "I'm listening."

"I adapted my will four weeks ago," Sara stated baldly all the while avoiding his gaze.

After expecting a conversation on the fact that he'd lost his temper and walked out, he was more than a little confused at Sara's confession. Unsure of what his reply should be he stalled, "Okay…"

"."

Given Sara's garbled run-on sentence it took a few moments for Dean to follow what she was saying. At last, he sifted through her words. "You gave me the kids?"

Sara nodded, her head thumping against his chest. "Yup."

The fact that Sara continued to avoid his gaze brought a slight smile to Dean's lips, he could only imagine how hard this conversation had to be for the widow. She'd been on her own long enough that giving up any kind of control, even upon her death would have been no easy task. For her to have picked him, well, it was more than a little overwhelming.

"You mean if something was to happen to Tom or your parents?" he assumed. It had to be what she'd meant, after all, how the hell was he supposed to offer her kids any kind of a life from the backseat of the Impala.

With an impatient huff, Sara lifted her head, stared him square in the eye, and said, "No. I mean if I die tomorrow, or if I had died yesterday, or well, you get my point…if I'm gone, you get the kids."

Sara continued on, pressing her point, "My parents are wonderful and I'd expect them to have a hand in raising the kids, but I have to face the fact that it would be a huge strain on them."

"And your brother? I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be too happy to find out his niece and nephews are being raised by the guy who was screwing his sister," Dean argued.

At his words, Sara's glance turned icy. "Is that what we're doing? Just getting' laid? 'Cause here I thought it went a bit deeper than that."

Recognizing his mistake, Dean hurried to reassure her, "You know it is. You're it for me Sara, no matter what happens, I'll never want anyone else." Here he took a deep breath and confessed, "But, that's not gonna change how it looks to other people. As long as I'm wanted by the police, we can't ever marry. This," Dean said with a gesture at the encompassing bed, "is all we can ever have".

"Screw everyone else," Sara snapped, "We're all that matters. I've loved you since I met you, a piece of paper isn't going to change that."

As glad as he was for Sara's blunt reasoning, Dean couldn't help but feel as if he were coming up short. "That's wonderful then, we're on the same page. But I still don't understand, why leave the kids to me, I have nothing to offer them."

At his words, Sara reached up and firmly grasped his head in her hands. He allowed her to tilt his head downward and met her steady gaze.

"You have everything to offer them. You are everything I want my children to become."

For one long moment, as he held Sara's insistent gaze, Dean believed her and it was enough. "I would do anything for them, for you."

Sara's smile was blinding as she pressed a kiss to his lips. "I know it's yet one more out of a million other reasons that I need you to be a part of this family. Those kids are everything to me, and knowing that you'll be there for them, even if I can't be…it's all I could ever want."

Needing to lighten things for a moment, before she noticed the sheen that covered his green eyes, Dean joked, "Now that I've promised, you can admit it, no one else would take the little hellions, right?"

The snort of laughter that burst from Sara lightened his heart in a way nothing else could.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

888

"For Christ's sake, Dean, will you two quit suckin' face and get a move on. We're all waiting down here."

Dean ignored Bobby's shout and placed another lingering kiss on Sara's exposed throat. Trailing his lips down the v-line of her tee shirt he enjoyed the powder fresh scent of her skin.

"You think we ought to get down there. I'm not sure how much longer Bobby's going to be able to beat them back from the Christmas tree?"

Dean ignored Sara's question and continued his quest. As he carefully teased the skin over her collarbone with his lips and tongue, he felt a shiver run through her.

"Guh, Dean, stop."

Not at all inclined to give up his play, Dean took it as a good sign that though her words said stop, her arms were wrapped tight around his shoulders. While continuing the teasing motion of his mouth, Dean upped the ante by slipping his hands under the hem of her shirt and tracing the contours of her flat stomach.

"Don't stop, Dean."

Satisfied that he was going to get his Christmas present early, Dean happily obeyed Sara's breathless command. With one hand still roving under her shirt, he nudged one jean clad knee between her own pj'd legs. Careful to not so much as brush her cast he settled himself more fully on top of the now panting widow.

"Merry Christmas!"

The shout, loud enough to be heard round the world, so startled the hunter that he jumped. His leg slipped off the bed and the rest of him followed, leaving him to land hard on the unforgiving floor. Bewildered, disheveled, and still shaking off the effects of his earlier foray into the pleasure that was Sara's body, Dean stared about, taking in the bright smiling faces of the people he loved most in the world.

Bobby leaned casually against Sara's bedroom door, a knowing grin lighting up his craggy face. Jessica, practically bursting with excitement, danced in place next to the old man. Sam, with Michael perched on his back like a monkey, grinned broadly, obviously enjoying his big brother's discomfort.

Jimmy, one hand resting on Jack's big square head, snorted impatiently and carped, "Dean, Mom, you promised we could start opening presents by seven, let's go."

Sara, ever calm in the face of her hoard, simply shifted so she could look over the side of the bed, met his gaze, and grinned, "Welcome to the family."

The End.

**Chapter End Notes:**

Okay all, so this is it, after a year of putting the screws to poor Sara I've finally managed to finish this one. To those of you reading I just want to say thanks, you guys have given me so much support over the last couple of year and I can't put into words just how much that means to me.

It still beyond amazes me that anyone would want to read anything that comes out of my slightly warped mind.

A big thanks to Fredo who helped beta much of this story, as always any mistakes are purely on my part.

Catch you all sometime in the future ;) Kel


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